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PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 



PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 



BY 

R. H. HINGLEY B.A. 

RESEARCH STUDENT IN PSYCHOLOGY AT EDINBURGH UNIVERSITY 



NEW YORK 

DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY 

1922 



*$ 



am. 



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PREFACE 

THE main purpose of this book is to give the 
general reader a plain account of psycho- 
analysis, in the belief that insight into its 
principles will afford the ordinary educated person 
invaluable help in facing the problems of life. It is 
hoped, however, that the student who is desirous of 
making a thorough study of the subject will find it a 
reliable and helpful introduction. To this end sugges- 
tions have been made in various parts of the book for 
further reading. In addition to the works of Freud 
himself, the works of Jung, Jones, Brill and Pfister may 
be mentioned as providing very valuable help. The 
last mentioned, in his " Psycho-analytic Method " has 
dealt with the subject from the pedagogic standpoint, 
and should, therefore, make a special appeal to those 
interested in education. 

A word about the method of this book is necessary. 
The aim has been to treat the subject in the spirit of 
sympathetic criticism, but criticism has been strictly 
subordinated to exposition. The usual tendency of the 
leaders of the movement has been to expound the sub- 
ject as the mechanics of psychic energy. This has 
aroused considerable opposition from the so-called 
" orthodox psychologist." I have endeavoured to 
meet this by treating the subject from the standpoint of 
the psychology of unconscious tendencies. But the 
main concern has been to give a faithful account of the 
Freudian doctrine, though the divergencies of the rival 
school of Zurich led by Dr. Jung have not been over- 
looked. 



vi PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 

The last two chapters, and especially the last, should 
be regarded rather as speculative essays in application. 
They should not be regarded as practical programmes 
to which psycho-analysis is in any way committed. 
Readers unacquainted with psychology should not be 
unduly discouraged if they find some difficulties in the 
first chapter. 

A glossary of special terms is appended for the readers 
convenience. 

For whatever sound psychological insight is to be 
found in this book I am indebted to Dr. Drever of Edin- 
burgh University. But this does not imply that the 
opinions expressed are necessarily shared by him. To 
my wife, also, I am indebted for invaluable help in many 
ways. 

1921. R. H. H. 



CONTENTS 

CHAPTER PAGE 

I. THE " NEW PSYCHOLOGY " - I 

II. ORIGIN AND DEVELOPMENT OF PSYCHO- 
ANALYSIS - - - 16 

III. DREAMS - - - - 23 

Wish-fulfilment Theory — Manifest and 
Latent Content — Dream Analysis by 
Free Association — Censorship and Re- 
pression — Repression, Dissociation and 
Forgetting — Fear Dreams — Sources of 
Dreams — Dream Work — Jung's Theory 

IV. THE NATURE OF THE UNCONSCIOUS - $J 

Types of Unconscious Tendency — 
Rationalization — Tendencies : Modes of 
Activity — Pleasure-Pain Principle and 
Reality Principle — Conflict of Tendencies 
— Instinctive Tendencies 

V. THE CONTROL OF THE UNCONSCIOUS - 97 

Psycho-Catharsis and Abreaction — 
Transference and Overcoming of Re- 
sistance — Auto- Analysis — Auto-Suggestion 

VI. THE PSYCHO-PATHOLOGY OF EVERYDAY LIFE Iig 

VII. PSYCHO-ANALYSIS AND EDUCATION - 129 

The Home — The School — Education 
and Freedom — Sexual Education — 
Sublimation 

VIII. SOCIETY AND RELIGION - 158 

The Social Ideal — The Social Misfit — 
The Religious Ideal 

GLOSSARY ... !86 

INDEX - - - - - 187 



PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 

CHAPTER I 

INTRODUCTION 

THE " NEW PSYCHOLOGY " 

THE " New Psychology " is an appellation which 
has achieved a considerable measure of popularity 
in recent times. But when we inquire more par- 
ticularly as to the nature of the subject-matter referred 
to, we find no little diversity of conception. It has been 
used to indicate the attempt to apply experimental 
methods to the elucidation of the problems of mental life 
and the effort to achieve in that realm something of the 
mathematical precision that is the pride and strength 
of the physical sciences. It has been used to designate 
a certain mixture of science, and esoteric speculation as 
to the nature and destiny of the soul. It has been used 
as a convenient term to refer to the work of those 
psychologists, chiefly French and American, who have 
devoted their energies to the investigation of the 
subconscious. Finally the disciples of psycho-analysis 
have not scorned such prestige as this title affords. 

On the positive side then, the term " New Psycho- 
logy " stands for no consistent and recognized system* 
But on the negative side, all the movements and systems 
above referred to are united by a common recognition 
of the inadequacy of the " old psychology." 

Let us examine this charge more carefully. It is 
i i 



2 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 

generally agreed that it is the function of psychology 
to explain the nature and working of mental processes. 
The different phases of consciousness, thought, feeling, 
will, (or more accurately, the cognitive, affective and 
conational aspects of experience) have been distinguished 
and investigated. Sensations, perceptions, ideas and 
reasoning have been examined with the utmost care. 
Habit, memory, emotion and volition have been des- 
cribed and analysed. The relation between mind and 
body has been the subject of endless but indecisive 
discussions. But to the ordinary lay mind we seem 
very little nearer to the heart of the secret. Human 
nature is still an unsolved mystery. 

Now we are far from maintaining that the province 
and aim of psychology should be dictated by the " man 
in the street." But the psychology that creates a man 
in its own image, and explains him to its own satis- 
faction, like the " economic man " of the older Political 
Economy, will scarcely succeed in establishing its claim 
to the serious consideration of mankind. The explana- 
tion of the development of space-perception may be 
necessary and desirable, but we need a psychology that 
can explain the " incompatible temperament " which 
brings about so many divorces in America and so many 
ruined homes in England. It is easy to assume the 
r61e of moralist in this and a hundred other problems 
of human behaviour. But condemnation is no explana- 
tion. It is the business of psychology, not to pass 
judgment but to explain. 

At the same time we must remember that psychology 
has made great advances. It is no longer engrossed 
and exhausted in metaphysical speculations about the 
nature of the soul. It no longer tries to explain human 
activity by the universal formula of the " association 
of ideas," or the Utilitarian conception of man's desire 
for pleasure and aversion from pain. These ideas have 
been so frequently examined and rejected during recent 
years that we do not intend to spend further time in 



THE " NEW PSYCHOLOGY " 3 

this discussion. They contain an element of truth, 
which requires careful definition, but no psychologist of 
the present day would accept these as providing any- 
thing like an adequate explanation of the rich variety 
of man's conduct and experience. Nevertheless, the 
idea that man's action is determined by a rational 
estimate of the balance of pleasure and pain has left 
its mark on modern psychological theory. Long after 
the Utilitarian theories had been rejected, the conception 
of man as a rational being held far too exclusive sway. 
Conduct was explained in terms of ideas and reason. 
Emotions were regarded as a more or less unimportant 
accompaniment of the cognitive processes. Feelings 
were the camp followers of ideas. As for instincts, they 
were regarded as the monopoly of the " lower animals." 
Against this " over-intellectualism " we have to-day 
a very marked revolt, that has gone so far, that Mr. 
Graham Wallas, after taking part in the movement in 
his " Human Nature and Politics," has felt compelled 
in " The Great Society " to restore the despot Reason 
to a limited monarchy. For ourselves, we believe that 
the significance of the non-rational factors in mental 
process has not yet been exhausted. Indeed it is only 
just beginning to receive its meed of attention. This 
revolt has been inspired primarily by the widening of 
the province of psychology to embrace the behaviour 
of the lower animals, and in the second place by the 
consideration of the phenomena which are commonly 
designated " subconscious." The work of Charles 
Darwin is, of course, the foundation on which modern 
comparative psychology is being built. But the linking 
up of human and animal psychology owes perhaps more 
to Dr. William McDougall than to any other thinker. 
The popularity of his " Introduction to Social Psychol- 
ogy " is not due merely to his lucid powers of exposition, 
but also to the fact that he has succeeded in giving 
his readers the conviction that he is dealing with a 
real living mind, and not merely dissecting a corpse. 



4 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 

According to McDougall the roots of human activity 
are to be found in the Instincts. 

What then is the nature of Instinct ? McDougall 
has defined it as " an inherited or innate psycho-physical 
disposition which determines its possessor to perceive, 
and to pay attention to, objects of a certain class, to 
experience an emotional excitement of a particular 
quality upon perceiving such an object, and to act in 
regard to it in a particular manner, or, at least, to 
experience an impulse to such action." 1 

The four things to note about an instinct then are : 

(i) It is an inherited or innate mechanism. 2 It is 
not peculiar to the individual but common to the species. 

(2) This mechanism impels the individual to pay 
special regard to some particular item or event in its 
complex environment, e.g., an infant's interest in bright 
and moving bodies. 

(3) When the object is perceived the individual 
experiences a special kind of emotion, e.g., fear, anger 
or disgust, etc. 

(4) The individual has an impulse to act in a parti- 
cular manner — to run away, hide, fight, etc. 

In the case of a pure instinct, that is, one which has 
not been modified by experience or rational reflection, 
there is apparently no foresight of the end. As an 
example of a pure instinct we might take a bird building 
its first nest. 

Instincts are capable of modification through ex- 
perience in the higher animals, and by rational reflection 
as well in the case of man. An object or individual 

1 W. McDougall, F.R.S. " An Introduction to Social 
Psychology." 14th Edition, p. 29. The reader who wishes 
to approach the study of psycho-analysis along sound psycho- 
logical lines, could not be better advised in our opinion, than to 
make a careful study of this book. 

8 By this term we mean a more or less plastic mode of conscious 
process working towards ends of which it is not aware. 



THE « NEW PSYCHOLOGY " 5 

that is at first regarded with fear or anger, may come 
to be regarded with curiosity and perhaps in the end 
with love. Then again two instincts may be simul- 
taneously stimulated. The result may be conflict, or 
the fusion of the two into a new emotional attitude. 
As an example of conflict we may take the behaviour 
of a dog restrained by fear from leaping up to the table 
at meal times. The conflict of the hunger and fear 
impulses is revealed in his ill-concealed restlessness. 
As an example of fusion we may take the emotional 
attitude of admiration that a man manifests in presence 
of a great work of art. Here, according to McDougall, 
we have a fusion of the curiosity-wonder instinct and 
the instinct of submission. 

Through the interaction of these inborn dispositions 
there is finally evolved in man selfconsciousness. Hence- 
forth his conduct is determined in some measure at any 
rate by preconceived and deliberately chosen ends. 
The instincts are not dead, but they are to varying 
degrees in different individuals modified by experience 
and organized into a coherent whole. Thus " the 
evolution of mind in the race," and in the individual, 
according to McDougall, involves " progress from 
predominantly mechanical to predominantly teleological 
determination," that is, from the impulse of blind 
instinct to the choice of rational foresight. 

We have now sketched very briefly and most inade- 
quately a theory of human behaviour formulated in the 
light of the observations of comparative psychology. 
There are two questions we must now ask. First, is 
the theory adequate for the explanation of the phenom- 
ena with which it deals, and second, has it taken into 
account all the relevant phenomena ? To the first 
question, the answer is, That it is the most satisfactory 
solution that has yet been given. To the second 
question the answer is, No. But before we ask what is 
the nature of these excluded mental phenomena, we 
are prepared, for ourselves, to admit the claim that 



6 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 

McDougall in the preface to the 14th Edition of "An 
Introduction to Social Psychology " makes, that this 
theory is capable, without fundamental change, of such 
adaption and extension as will cover the phenomena 
in question. 

But let us without further delay inquire what is the 
nature of these phenomena. The second factor which 
has been at work to bring about the present-day revolt 
against " intellectualism " is the discovery of " sub- 
conscious phenomena." In this field of inquiry France 
has led the way. Charcot, Bernheim and Janet may 
be mentioned as leading exponents of subconscious 
theory in that country. This work has been aided and 
advanced by American investigators, led by such men 
as Morton Prince and Boris Sidis. The aim of McDougall 
is to illuminate the problems of human psychology by 
the help of animal psychology. Their task is to discover 
what light can be thrown on the working of the normal 
mind by the study of the abnormal. In this respect 
they have a closer affinity with the psycho-analytical 
mode of approach. The phenomena which have received 
their special attention are automatism, crystal gazing, 
suggestion, hypnotism, " double personality." It is 
impossible here to give these fascinating subjects the 
consideration they deserve. For this we must refer the 
reader to the works of the authors themselves. 1 

We can only state briefly the conclusions of this 
school of inquiry as represented, for example, by Boris 
Sidis in his " Psychology of Suggestion." After 
examining the phenomena he comes to this conclusion — 
that they can only be explained on the hypothesis of 
subconsciousness. " Subconsciousness," he says, " is 
not an unconscious psychological automatism ; it is a 

1 " The Psychology of Suggestion/* Boris Sidis, 1898. 
Appleton. 

" Normal and Abnormal Psychology." Boris Sidis. 1914. 
Duckworth. 

" Dissociation of a Personality." Morton Prince. 1906. 
New York. 



THE « NEW PSYCHOLOGY " 7 

secondary consciousness, a secondary self." With regard 
to this conclusion we wish first of all to remark that 
it is a sound principle to seek the explanations of 
psychical process, not by physiological but by psycho- 
logical concepts. But we have now to ask — is this 
hypothesis of a secondary consciousness both adequate 
and necessary for the explanation of human experience 
and activity. 

How are such mental conditions as obsessions, 
amnesias (forgettings), phobias, hysteria, etc., explained 
by this theory of a secondary consciousness ? Sidis 
claims that these conditions can be reproduced in the 
psychological laboratory. The critical activities of the 
self consciousness of the subjects are suspended under 
the direction of the hypnotist, and in this way direct 
access is obtained to the secondary consciousness, which 
is amenable to suggestion in proportion to the degree 
in which the critical faculties have ceased to operate. 
In this state the various symptoms of the pathological 
states can be suggested and will persist in the waking 
state of full selfconsciousness. The explanation then is 
found to be in the suggestibility of the subconscious. 
We have still to ask, But how is the specific nature of 
the obsession or fear to be accounted for ? In the 
laboratory it is due to the hypnotist. To what is it 
due in ordinary life ? The answer apparently is the 
accidents of a man's history. A certain man has a 
great fear of cats. This would be explained by some 
incident in his career — when he, in a highly suggestible 
moment, had some painful experience with a member 
of the feline tribe. Such an explanation may be ade- 
quate in many cases — especially in cases where the fear 
was not permanent. But where the fear or obsession 
is permanent this explanation will not suffice. For one 
of the main criticisms of suggestion and hypnosis as 
therapeutic agencies is their temporary effectiveness. 
The effects of suggestion wear off. They may be 
renewed by a repetition of similar experiences, and we 



8 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 

are bound to acknowledge the effects of suggestion 
increase with every repetition. But in the absence of 
such renewals we must seek the cause of the trouble, 
not in an accidental and isolated suggestion, or in the 
general condition of suggestibility, but in some factor 
that is more permanent. A second criticism we have 
to pass on the theory of the subconscious is that it does 
not provide an adequate explanation of those compli- 
cated mental constructions that we find in hysteria, in 
dreams, and in such products of social thought as we 
have in the various mythologies. For the broad 
differences that exist between such mental processes 
and those of rational reflection it may account by the 
principle of varying degrees of mental synthesis, but 
for the specific nature of the experiences of a particular 
dream it has no adequate explanation to offer. 

Again we ask, Is the hypothesis of a secondary con- 
sciousness absolutely necessary ? The discussion of 
this question would involve us in the metaphysics of 
identity. Into this question then we will not at present 
further inquire, trusting that the more philosophically 
minded of our readers will see that the question has 
received consideration, if not explicit treatment, in the 
conception of conscious activity which we shall en- 
deavour shortly to explain. Meanwhile we shall content 
ourselves with the assertion that each individual has 
one consciousness and no more. Self consciousness, 
subconsciousness, and " unconsciousness " are but 
different modifications, or aspects of the same conscious 
life. 

But before we try to make clear what we mean by 
this we must consider another theory of mental life that 
has been advanced to explain the nature of human 
experience. It is the one advanced by Prof. Freud of 
Vienna, to whom psycho-analysis owes its discovery 
and chief development. According to him, mind, or 
the " psychic apparatus," as he calls it, may be con- 
ceived of as consisting of three " psychic localities," 



THE * NEW PSYCHOLOGY " 9 

namely, the conscious, the preconscious, and the 
unconscious. What does Freud understand by these 
terms ? This is a most important question if we are 
to get anything like a clear conception of psycho- 
analytical theory. The terms " conscious " and " un- 
conscious " are ambiguous. For instance, we say of a 
person in a dead faint that he is " unconscious," or of 
an absent-minded or automatic action that it is " un- 
conscious." But the word is obviously used in a 
different sense in these two instances. Similarly with 
the term " conscious." We attribute consciousness to 
the lower animals in the belief that in varying degrees 
they feel and perceive, and act accordingly. On the 
other hand we may reserve the term for that awareness 
of feeling, perceptions and actions which we believe 
is the monopoly of man. It is in this sense that Freud 
uses the term. For Freud, the conscious is that part 
of our experience of which we are personally aware ; 
the preconscious is that part of our experience of which 
we can make ourselves personally aware by voluntary 
attention ; the unconscious is that part of our experience 
of which we cannot make ourselves personally aware 
by attention. To put it in terms of memory, conscious- 
ness refers to perceived present activity, preconscious- 
ness to past activity that can be recalled, and uncon- 
sciousness to past activity that cannot be recalled 
except by special technique, such as hypnotism or 
psycho-analysis. For example, I am conscious of sitting 
at my table writing. While this consciousness is domin- 
ant, the memories of the walk in the wind and the 
calls I made this afternoon, belong to the preconscious. 
As I write about them they come up into my conscious- 
ness. But there are experiences of my life that I cannot 
recall. For instance, I can recall just a glimpse of my 
memory of the first occasion when I slept in a strange 
house as a child. But the details of the journey to the 
place, the locality of the house are all completely blank. 
They belong to the unconscious. There is, however, 



10 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 

no clear line of demarcation between the three 
" localities." There are certain memories that seem to 
belong at times to the preconscious, and at other times 
to pass temporarily into the unconscious. The com- 
monest illustration of this is the case of recalling names. 
We have all experienced times when we have been 
unable to recall a name which we were absolutely sure 
we remembered, it may be indeed a name that we are 
in the habit of recalling quite easily. That is, it usually 
belongs to the preconscious. But just at a particular 
moment we cannot recall it. At that moment it has 
been pushed back into the unconscious. 

But this use of the terms " conscious '* and " uncon- 
scious,' ' while it is undoubtedly in accordance with one 
of the common interpretations of everyday life, is not 
psychologically satisfactory, and we cannot but regret 
that, being woven as it is into the remarkable fabric of 
Freudian theory, it has met with an acceptance, which 
upon its own merits, we are convinced, it would never 
have won. It has involved the use of such contradictory 
terms as " unconscious ideas," " unconscious wishes," 
and " unconscious experience," and must obscure the 
fundamental similarity of the psychic life of the lower 
animals and man. We are compelled to think of 
memories as existing unchanged in some antechamber 
of the mind, and being admitted after scrutiny and 
possible disguise (see doctrine of the Censor, later), into 
the presence chamber of consciousness. Now this con- 
ception of memories existing like pale shadows of them- 
selves in the Sheol of the Unconscious, waiting for 
resurrection, is unpsychological. Memories do not exist 
as pale shadows waiting for reincarnation in conscious 
life. They exist only as a determination of present 
experience. They do not exist as ideas, wishes, etc., 
but only as tendencies or trends of consciousness. They 
only become ideas or wishes as they are reinstated in 
the full, personal consciousness of present experience. 
Let us try to make this clear by means of an illustration. 



THE « NEW PSYCHOLOGY " 11 

I want a fresh packet of tobacco. This is a conscious 
wish of the present. It sets going a train of activities. 
I look for my hat and set off along the street. Mean- 
while the wish for the tobacco has become a memory. 
I am attending to other thoughts. But it is still 
affecting my activity. I am still walking towards the 
shop, though possibly my thoughts are full of a recent 
football match. But as soon as I reach the shop, the 
tendency to bend my footsteps in a certain direction 
becomes a recognized purpose to purchase tobacco. The 
point we want to make clear is, that ideas and wishes 
do not exist as such " in the back of the mind," to use 
a common phrase, but persist only as unrecognized 
tendencies and trends of present experience and activity. 
As soon as the tendency or trend is recognized it becomes 
an idea or wish. But some tendencies we are able to 
recognize on the relevant occasion, others we cannot 
recognize. This is Freud's distinction between the 
preconscious and the unconscious. It is an important 
distinction as we trust the sequel will show, and thus 
stated we believe it is free from the criticisms that have 
been launched against Freud's theory of the unconscious. 
It is only just to acknowledge that Freud is not oblivious 
of these criticisms. He meets them by accusing psychol- 
ogists of making the psychical and conscious equivalent 
terms. The psychologist retorts that he has identified 
consciousness and self consciousness. Freud rejects the 
hypothesis of the subconscious, and in so far as it implies 
two or more independent " streams of consciousness," 
we believe he is right. But the " subconscious " school 
is not necessarily committed to such a hypothesis, 
though some of their statements would apparently bear 
that interpretation. Finally we believe that these three 
schools of psychological thought — the " Instinct " 
school represented by Prof. McDougall and Dr. Drever, 
the " Subconscious " school represented by Janet, 
Prince and Sidis, and the " Unconscious," represented 
by Freud, Jung, and their disciples, are not necessarily 



12 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 

exclusive in their main principles, in fact, that the most 
satisfactory account of human activity will be gained 
by a conception of consciousness which does justice to 
the main contentions of all three. 

To those acquainted with the tremendous complexity 
of the facts, an attempt to formulate such a concept 
will almost certainly be regarded as foredoomed to 
failure ; to those who have but slight acquaintance with 
psychological literature the prospect of a further venture 
into unexplored country may appear bewildering and 
uninviting. We will endeavour, as far as the limits of 
space will allow, to make our exposition as clear and 
full as possible. 

A metaphor may help us to get a firmer hold of the 
subject. Let us compare consciousness to a midnight 
procession headed by a torchlight, whose rays can be 
turned in any direction, concentrated into a beam or 
diffused over a wide area as need arises. The country 
lying immediately ahead is lit up, revealing more or 
less clearly, tracks and obstacles, which the leader of 
the procession must choose or avoid as the case may be. 
But the action of the leader of the procession is not 
determined merely by what the torchlight reveals, he 
is being pushed and jostled by those behind. The way 
he actually takes will be determined by three factors — 
the nature of the country, the purpose he has in view, 
and the pressure of his followers. On the followers 
immediately behind he can turn the light. They are 
tendencies that can be recognized, that is, they are 
wishes and desires. The more remote followers are out- 
side the light. They are exerting their pressure, some 
of them at times possibly push their way up into the 
illuminated area and are recognized. The illuminated 
and unilluminated parts of the procession correspond to 
Freud's preconscious and unconscious respectively. The 
light-bearer is selfconsciousness, with a more or less 
definite goal in view. He must choose the way, re- 
straining as far as possible the unruly members. But 



THE " NEW PSYCHOLOGY " 13 

consciousness is far more complicated still. The members 
of the procession are organized to a greater or less extent 
into companies, platoons, etc., such as the " sentiments " 
of McDougall, or the " constellations " of the psycho- 
analyst. They are capable of a certain amount of 
independence. This organization is an all-important 
conception. It is called mental synthesis. Where 
synthesis is well developed there is clear thinking, 
consistent action ; but where it is defective there is 
confusion and conflict. Larger or smaller bands may 
be cut off to some extent from the procession. Then 
we have what is called a " complex " in psycho-analysis, 
or "dissociation" in the terms of the subconscious 
school. When the self through emotional shock loses 
control we have a special case of dissociation which is 
pure instinctive reaction, as in the case of overwhelming 
fear or solicitation of appetite. 

This metaphor of the procession must not be pushed 
too far. Selfconsciousness is not a separate being, 
sitting enthroned above the more or less obedient 
subjects we call impulses. It is itself only a recognized 
and acknowledged synthesis of these same impulses, or 
at any rate of some of them. The whole activity of 
consciousness is not necessarily exhausted in personal 
consciousness. Hypnotism, for example, reveals that 
we perceive and remember things of which we have no 
personal consciousness. While certain of our tendencies 
and experiences are synthesized into self-activity, others 
may be synthesized into a unity on what Dr. Drever 
has called the subpersonal level. Walking along the 
street, my personal consciousness may be engaged in 
wrestling with a psychological problem, while the 
business of keeping my body out of contact with other 
people may be relegated to the subpersonal conscious- 
ness. 

A second thing we must note is, that the synthesis of 
impulses, which we call self or personal consciousness 
is not a fixed one. It changes from moment to moment. 



14 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 

As a rule a strong sense of continuity underlies the 
change. But if this is weakened we have that type of 
experience in which we say — " I wasn't myself then ! " 
If it becomes weaker still, till it practically or entirely 
disappears, we have what is known as dissociated 
personality. The most remarkable example of this is 
the case of " Miss Beauchamp," who had at least three 
well-marked personalities, as Dr. Morton Prince clearly 
shows. 

The selfconsciousness of a given moment does not 
exhaust the impulses and experiences of that moment. 
These are pushing at the door. Some are rejected ; 
some are admitted because they are approved. Others 
are admitted because they are too strong to be kept out. 
Once these have obtained entry, they alter the nature 
of selfconsciousness. The desires and wishes that 
previously ruled may continue to fight on, and then we 
have self conscious conflict, or they may be pushed right 
out of the selfconscious to take their turn for a time at 
least as nameless rebels. If the suppression is temporary 
these desires belong to the Freudian preconscious, if it 
is relatively permanent they belong to the unconscious. 
This selecting activity of the self is all-important. Accord- 
ing to the degree to which it is relaxed we have the 
various degrees of suggestibility in the different hypnotic 
states, or dream activities. According to the degree in 
which it is rigidly and narrowy exercised over strong 
impulses we have the conflicts which underlie the great 
variety of " nervous conditions," to be found in human 
life. To this extent, the " subconscious " and " uncon- 
scious " schools are in the main agreed, except in the 
question of terminology, and in this respect we feel that 
the " subconscious " school is the more consistent and 
satisfactory. The use of such terms as " unconscious 
ideas " by psycho-analysts is, we hold, objectionable 
and unnecessary, but at the same time it does not 
undermine the truth of their main contention, that there 
are dynamic conditions of experience which the indivi- 



THE « NEW PSYCHOLOGY " 15 

dual cannot trace to their origin, e.g., the man who has 
a fear of cats, but cannot trace this fear back to some 
incident of childhood days. But there are two types 
of tendency which the individual cannot trace to their 
origin — the innate or inherited tendencies which we call 
instincts and the acquired tendencies due to an experi- 
ence which cannot be recalled. The former have been 
called the " primary unconscious " and the latter the 
1 ' secondary unconscious . ' ' The problem of harmonizing 
psycho-analytical theory with instinct psychology lies 
largely in the determination of which tendencies are 
acquired and which are inherited. Freud apparently 
acknowledges only two instincts, the selfpreservation, 
and race-preservation or sex instincts. The result is 
of necessity, that he gives the latter a far more important 
place than the " Instinct " school is prepared to admit. 
The difference between the " unconscious " and " sub- 
conscious " schools is due mainly to the different attitude 
to mental life. The former is predominantly genetic, 
explaining the present in terms of past development, 
the latter is predominantly analytic, explaining the 
present in terms of the present constituent elements. 
The one places the chief emphasis on " repression " of 
painful memories, while the other (the " subconscious " 
school) regards " dissociation " of consciousness as the 
all-important factor. The comparative psychologists 
or the " instinct " school, as we have called them, 
resemble the psycho-analytical school in taking the 
genetic point of view. But while the former explain 
the mature mental activity of man by means of the 
evolution of the simpler mental processes of the lower 
animals, the latter explain this activity by the history 
of the individual, that is, the " instinct " school is more 
phylogenetic, while the " unconscious " school is more 
exclusively ontogenetic. 



CHAPTER II 

ORIGIN AND DEVELOPMENT OF 
PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 

IN the preceding chapter we have seen that psycho- 
analysis approaches the problem of human 
behaviour from the standpoint of the abnormal, 
and that in this respect it resembles the attitude of the 
" subconscious " school. Ethics defines the normal as 
the right, the ideal, the rational. In this sense the 
unconscious is always abnormal. It has nothing to do 
with the right and rational. It is just as non-rational 
as a schoolboy's liking for jam tarts. For psychology 
and medicine the normal is the usual. The abnormal 
is the unusual, or the usual with some element or aspect 
unusually developed or atrophied. The study of these 
abnormal conditions has thrown very great light on 
the normal functioning both of body and mind. As we 
have already seen it was from this point of view that 
the " subconscious " school made their attack on the 
problem of consciousness. Hypnotic states, automatic 
activities, and the phenomena of dissociated personality 
were seen to be only exaggerated conditions of normal 
states. In a similar way psycho-analysis began with 
the study of the abnormal condition known as hysteria. 
Sigmund Freud of Vienna is the acknowledged founder 
of this school. In his brief " History of the Psycho- 
analytical Movement " he traces it back to the examina- 
tion of a very interesting case of hysteria in the charge 
of Dr. Breuer, an older colleague. After failing to 
remove the symptoms, such as paralysis of the right 

16 



ORIGIN AND DEVELOPMENT 17 

arm, loss of the power to drink, by means of hypnotic 
suggestion, Breuer gradually discovered that one by one 
these disappeared when the painful, repulsive experi- 
ences, which were apparently the cause of the trouble 
were recalled by the help of hypnotism. Breuer, how- 
ever, did not make any further use of this discovery 
till urged to do so some years later by Freud, who had 
now returned from Paris after studying hypnotism 
under Charcot. Together they began to apply the 
discovery, and after a time found that it was not enough 
to recall the disturbing experience. The experience 
must be relived in all its old emotional intensity. The 
application of this principle was called the " Cathartic 
Method," and marks the first stage of the development 
of psycho-analysis. For this Freud gives Breuer 
practically full credit. 

The problem of the physician was then to discover 
the experience which underlay the nervous trouble. In 
their quest for this Breuer and Freud found themselves 
being led back to earlier and yet earlier periods of the 
patient's history — back to puberty and often to early 
childhood days. This phenomenon was called " regres- 
sion.' ' So far Breuer and Freud were agreed and worked 
hand in hand. But at this point their ways parted. 
Freud maintained that these memories were essentially 
of a sexual nature. Breuer disagreed and Freud was 
left to work and fight alone. For many years he was 
either ignored or fiercely attacked. But he worked on. 

The results of these years of isolated work we will try 
to sum up in a word or two. In trying to track the 
memories that he held were the specific cause of the 
nervous disorder, he found that there was always a 
great deal of " resistance " to overcome. They were 
buried memories and the patient was unwilling to have 
them disinterred. He found further that in many cases 
he could not apply hypnotism, and in cases where he 
could the " resistance " was often only thereby increased. 
So in 1893 he definitely abandoned the hypnotic method, 



18 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 

and henceforth used the method of " free association," 
of which we shall have more to say later. In trying 
to overcome the resistance of the patient to the recall 
of the disagreeable memories he found that wherever 
he was successful there was a stage in the treatment in 
which the patient " transferred " on to the physician 
the emotional attitude which was the root of his trouble. 
For example, if the cause of the disorder was an undue 
attachment to, or hostility towards one of the patient's 
parents, then that attachment or hostility must be 
transferred on to the physician before the patient could 
be cured. This transference, it must be understood, 
did not consummate the cure, but was a necessary stage 
in achieving it. These two conceptions of " resistance " 
and " transference," Freud asserts are essential for 
genuine psycho-analysis. 

Two other discoveries belonging to this period must 
be noted. A more careful examination of the " mem- 
ories " revealed that in some cases they did not refer 
to actual incidents, but only to imagined ones. The 
second discovery was the most far-reaching of all. It 
was the recognition that the mental processes in dreams 
are essentially similar to the mental processes of the 
neurotic mind. The recognition of this resemblance led 
to that investigation of dreams the results of which 
are embodied in Freud's " Interpretation of Dreams." 1 

Shortly after the publication of this book the psycho- 
analytical method was adopted and practised by 
Bleuler and Jung in the school of Psychiatry at Zurich. 
It was mainly due to the efforts and influence of this 
school, as Freud himself admits, that the new thera- 
peutic method received its early expansion. Jung 
devised a new method which is known as the " Word 
Association Method." A list of one hundred common 
words is taken. One by one these words are pronounced 
by the analyst, and the patient is instructed to respond 

1 " Interpretation of Dreams." Sigmund Freud. Translated 
by Brill. 3rd Edition, 1920. Allen and Unwin, London. 



ORIGIN AND DEVELOPMENT 19 

as quickly as possible with the first word that it arouses 
in his mind. The time taken to give the response is 
measured in fifths of a second by means of a stop watch. 
When the whole series of words has been gone through 
in this manner they are repeated, and the patient is 
instructed to give as far as possible the word with which 
he responded on the former occasion. The responses 
are then carefully classified. Jung found that the types 
of response varied considerably, and that similar types 
of response were given in cases of the same mental 
disease. This aspect of the question is, however, a 
question for the trained psychiatrist, and so we shall 
not consider it further. But other interesting results 
of the method are worthy of consideration. The first 
thing that is to be noted is, that the time taken to 
respond is much longer for some words than for others. 
Occasionally response fails altogether, or is given after 
repeating the stimulus word. In some cases the same 
word is given several times as a response to different 
stimulus words. Failure to reproduce the original 
response is also common. These are some of the most 
important points of the Association Test. They indicate 
not intellectual difficulties, but emotional ones. The words 
that call out these unusual reactions are linked up with 
some experience that vitally concerns the individual 
who makes the reaction. They point to some hidden 
mental tension or conflict, which it is the business of 
psycho-analysis to remove. The method of doing this 
is the same as in the case of dreams, and will be con- 
sidered later. When the dreams are difficult to obtain 
this method provides a substitute and has uses extending 
even beyond this. For instance, it has been employed 
to distinguish guilty persons from innocent. But as a 
means of insight into the way the unconscious works it 
is far inferior to dream analysis. 

This method Freud acknowledges as a legitimate 
development of his own work. So far Jung was appar- 
ently in substantial agreement with him, and was 



20 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 

regarded by Freud as his authorized successor. In 
1909 they went together to America to expound this 
new system of psycho-therapy, and found there a much 
more sympathetic hearing than it had received in 
Europe. But differences soon began to emerge between 
the two, and also between Freud and another of his 
disciples, Dr. Alfred Adler, a fellow-citizen of Vienna. 

A brief consideration of these differences is all that 
we can give. We have seen how Breuer and Freud in 
examining cases of nervous disorders, such as hysteria, 
were led back to very early childhood memories or 
phantasies. In this way Freud was led to explain the 
mental conflict which is the root of the trouble as due 
to the persistence of various childish attitudes which 
were inconsistent with the demands of adult life. The 
essential elements in these childish attitudes he main- 
tained were sexual. At one stage or another the normal 
psycho-sexual (the mental side of sex life) development, 
had been arrested. Jung on the other hand maintained 
that the conflict was due to the individual's difficulty 
in adapting himself to his environment, and that the 
" regression " tendency was due to an effort on the 
part of the patient to find some experience upon which 
the blame for the trouble could be laid. The early 
memories were thus not the real cause, but the imagined 
cause of the illness. According to Jung the real cause 
was to be found in the individual's " non-fulfilment of 
his life's task." Further, he denied that the psychic 
energy of the unconscious, the urge, or " libido " as it 
was called, was exclusively sexual. 1 It was on these 
same questions, that Adler diverged even more widely 
from his master. He held that this fundamental urge 
was the " egotistic impulse," Nietzsche's " will to power," 
and that the sexual instinct is only one form of its 

1 Freud's use of this term has been much debated. It covers 
not only the significance that is attached to it in common speech, 
but as far as we have been able to interpret it, it embraces also 
what we should call the " sensuous." For fuller consideration 
of this question, see Chapter IV. 



ORIGIN AND DEVELOPMENT 21 

manifestation. The failure of this " will to power " to 
realize its ends, he maintained was the cause of neurotic 
troubles. At the root of this failure is some organic 
inferiority. The patient tries to compensate for this 
weakness, by a special concentration of his energies in 
that direction. The classical example of such compensa- 
tion is the triumph of Demosthenes over his speech 
deficiencies. If the effort fails then the patient tries 
to exploit his inferiority as the blind beggar does his 
loss of sight. If this fails mental conflict ensues with '"' 
its varied train of nervous ills. There can be no doubt 
that the feeling of inferiority and the effort to com- 
pensate for it play a large part in human life. But 
even from these all-too-brief accounts of the theories of 
Freud and Adler it will be seen that the latter has 
departed very far from his master's teaching, and that 
he was only just to himself and the founder of psycho- 
analysis when he gave his system the new title of 
" Individual Psychology/ ' While this system contains 
much that is valuable, we believe that on the whole 
Freud's criticism of it is just. " The picture one derives I 
from Adler's system is founded entirely upon the impulse 
of aggression. It has no place at all for love." 

This country was very slow to receive the Freudian 
theories. But it is becoming increasingly recognized 
that they contain valuable contributions to our insight 
into the working of the human mind. Dr. Ernest Jones 
stands as the pioneer and chief representative of the 
orthodox school, while Dr. Maurice Nicoll and Dr. 
Constance Long may be mentioned as leading disciples 
of Jung. Here, as elsewhere, the " rock of offence " 
has been Freud's sexual theory, and there are many, 
such as Rivers, McDougall, Myers and Brown, who 
acknowledge that Freud has thrown great light on the 
unconscious activities of the mind, but they are not 
prepared to accept without considerable modification 
his idea of the role of sex. 

On this question we shall content ourselves at presen^ 



22 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 

with saying that the question must be faced with as 
little prejudice and passion as the human mind is 
capable of. Truth must be our only guide. That we 
may face the question with what we may call an 
" equilibrated mind " let it be remembered that if we 
find in Freud's conceptions much that is repellent, if 
these conceptions are true, then the very best of which 
human nature is capable, the highest values on which 
we can set our hearts, these are to be obtained, not by 
trampling on and crushing this powerful impulse but 
by its " sublimation." 1 



1 Freud defines " sublimation " as a process by which an 
originally sexual aim is exchanged for one which is no longer 
sexual, but still psychically related* 



CHAPTER III 
DREAMS 

WE have now seen how the psycho-analytical 
method with its accompanying theory was 
discovered and what was the nature of its 
earlier development, and we have seen how Freud's atten- 
tion was drawn to the similarity of the mental processes 
in hysteria and in dreams. The nature of these dream 
processes we must now examine more carefully under 
his guidance. 

Dreams have played a great part in the culture of 
nearly all primitive peoples, and even among the most 
highly civilized peoples of the present day there are not 
a few traces of dream-lore. But for the most part 
science has treated them as meaningless and unimpor- 
tant. Efforts have been made to explain and interpret 
the phenomena but with very little success. The 
general tendency has been to ascribe them to some such 
cause as an indigestible supper, or some accidental 
sensation experienced by the sleeper. The often quoted 
dream of Maury will afford us a good illustration. He 
dreamt he was arraigned before a tribunal of the French 
Revolution. He was tried, condemned, and executed. 
At the moment when he felt his head being severed 
from his body he awoke in great distress to find that 
the top of his bed had fallen on his neck. But we have 
still to ask, why did he dream of the .Revolution, and 
not of an attack by brigands or a street accident ? The 
answer usually given to such a question is that he must 
have been reading or thinking about the Revolution 

23 



24 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 

some little time before. We have here another factor 
which is commonly recognized as playing a part in the 
formation of dreams — the factor of recent experience. 
But most dreams are not so coherent as the one we have 
cited. On the surface they often appear ridiculous and 
utterly meaningless, worthy only to be compared with 
the apparently groundless hallucinations and incoherent 
ravings of an inmate of a lunatic asylum. We shut the 
lunatic out of sight and dismiss the dream into oblivion 
for much the same reason. We do not understand 
them. Possibly we do not want to understand them. 
But Freud has taken seriously the hallucinations of the 
lunatic, the foolish obsessions and worries of the neurotic, 
and the fabrications of the dreamer. If he has not 
elucidated every problem connected with these mental 
processes he has at any rate succeeded in throwing on 
them a flood of light, and into a realm where chaos held 
almost unlimited sway he has brought a large measure 
of order and insight. 

Before we ask what is Freud's explanations of dreams, 
it is only just that we should remind ourselves that his 
theory is not based on the casual examination of a few 
dreams. His " Interpretation of Dreams," published 
first in German, more than twenty years ago, was based 
on the analysis of not less than one thousand dreams. 
Since then his work has been extended and in some 
respects modified. It has passed through the fiercest 
furnace of hostile criticism. But Freud still maintains 
that his fundamental contentions have not been over- 
thrown. It is sometimes urged as an objection to his 
theories that they are based upon a one-sided examina- 
tion of abnormal neurotic individuals. In these days, 
when in nearly every department of psychology and 
medicine, pathology is being so extensively used to 
illuminate the normal processes of body and mind this 
cannot be regarded as a final and decisive objection. 
But we may go even further. The objection is not true. 
The theory was based not merely upon the examination 



DREAMS 25 

of the dreams of nervous patients, but on the dreams 
of normal people as well. The examples he gives in his 
book are drawn chiefly from a collection of his own 
dreams. The reason for this is that the analysis of 
dreams involves such a revelation of the intimate and 
private affairs of the individual that Freud felt that he 
could only demand such sacrifice from himself. 



I. WISH-FULFILMENT THEORY 

Having considered this objection let us now turn to 
Freud's theory of dreams. The foundation of this theory 
is the hypothesis that all dreams are the fulfilment of a wish. 
To those who are entirely unacquainted with the system 
of thought we are endeavouring to expound, this state- 
ment will be received with surprise and most probably 
with scepticism. It is one of the contentions around 
which the fierce debate on psycho-analytical theories 
has raged most stormily. That some dreams are 
obviously simple examples of wish-fulfilments will be 
readily granted. Most people, possibly, from their own 
experience could produce such cases. Dreams which 
are just straightforward imaginary gratifications of 
bodily needs are by no means uncommon. The sleeper, 
for instance, is thirsty, and he dreams that he is slaking 
his thirst with copious draughts from some refreshing 
spring. On more than one occasion, the writer, having 
slept beyond his usual hour has dreamt that he had 
just woke up, and looking at his watch found that he 
had a good hour to sleep. Rude disillusionment soon 
followed from some member of the household. This 
simple dream reveals a complication of two wishes — the 
desire to sleep, and the desire, less strong possibly, to 
be up betimes. Freud gives a similar instance of a 
medical student, who being called one morning, awoke, 
turned over and dreamt that he was in bed in the hospital 
where his studies were being pursued. Since he was 



26 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 

already in the hospital there was no need to get up. 
He could sleep a while longer. The dreams of young 
children are practically all of this simple type. The 
chocolates that were denied during the day are supplied 
in abundance by the dream at night. The entertainment 
that was prohibited, or proved all too brief in the waking 
hours is enjoyed without restraint during the sleeping 
hours. 

But the vast majority of adult dreams are not so 
simple or obvious as the examples just quoted. Leaving 
aside for a moment, anxiety and fear dreams, the 
ordinary dream of grown up people is apparently a 
meaningless jumble of ludicrous situations, without 
rhyme or reason. Further, even when these are inter- 
preted by the method we shall shortly expound, the 
dreamer often refuses to accept the interpretation 
because he cannot acknowledge that he ever experienced 
the wish of which the dream is the alleged fulfilment. 
Freud's explanation of this is that the wish is an uncon- 
scious wish. This terminology, as we have explained 
in Chapter I, is unfortunate and misleading. It involves 
an unwarrantable, or at least undesirable extension of 
the commonly accepted meaning of the word " wish," 
and has resulted in a good deal of unnecessary opposition 
to Freud's theories. We cannot hope to explain these 
theories so that they will meet with ready and universal 
acceptance. If it were possible to do this without 
injustice to their fundamental contentions, it would 
involve their complete refutation. For the whole 
structure is built up on the foundation idea that in the 
individual there is an obstinate resistance against self- 
revelation. Rightly does Freud recognize that the 
fierce opposition with which his teaching has met, is 
both natural and inevitable if that teaching is true. 
At the same time, and we are sure that he would readily 
acknowledge this, that opposition in itself is not a 
sufficient demonstration of the truth of his contentions. 
Not a little of that hostility has been due, we contend, 



DREAMS 27 

to his unusual use of terms which his critics have not 
always fully appreciated. The use of the term " wish " 
is a case in point. There is no such thing as an " uncon- 
scious wish." A more satisfactory mode of expression 
of his idea would be the term " unrecognized tendency." 
A wish is, at least, a recognized tendency. We shall 
therefore use the word " tendency " asa general term, 
covering the same connotation as Freud attributes to 
the " wish," conscious or unconscious. It is at once 
obvious that most of us would be prepared to admit 
that there are unrecognized, and even undesirable 
tendencies within us. But if these tendencies are 
dignified by the title " wish " we should rightly deny 
their existence, because we feel that this title involves 
a degree of approval which we have never bestowed 
upon them. On these grounds we believe, that the 
wish-fulfilment would be better expressed, — " Every 
dream is the satisfaction of a psychical tendency." 

2. MANIFEST AND LATENT CONTENT 

But there are other objections which would appear 
to be just as valid against this formula as against the 
original one. Some dreams apparently reveal tendencies 
which we not only deny, but which undoubtedly do not 
exist. The mere denial of them does not disprove them. 
They may be unrecognized or, to use the Freudian term, 
" unconscious." But there are some dreams which 
manifest to all appearance, attitudes and desires which 
not even the most exhaustive analysis can confirm. 
The explanation of this leads us to a second and most 
important fact about dreams. Dreams have two con- 
tents, the manifest and latent. The manifest content 
is that which is obvious to the dreamer. The latent 
content can only be revealed by analysis. The former 
may apparently reveal tendencies which are quite 
inconsistent with the character of the dreamer, but when 
the dream has been analysed and its latent content 



28 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 

rendered explicit, it will be seen that its meaning is 
quite different from what a superficial interpretation 
would indicate. This distinction of the two contents is 
of the utmost importance for a right understanding of 
Freud's doctrine. As an illustration of this we will give 
a very short dream of one of Ferenczi's patients with its 
accompanying analysis. 

" I was once called upon to analyse the short dream 
of a woman ; in it she had wrung the neck of a little, 
barking, white dog. She was very much astonished 
that she who " could not hurt a fly," could dream such 
a cruel dream, and she did not remember having dreamt 
one like it before. She admitted that, being very fond 
of cooking, she had many times killed pigeons and fowls 
with her own hand. Then it occurred to her that she 
had wrung the neck of the little dog in the dream in 
exactly the same way as she was accustomed to do with 
the pigeons in order to cause them less pain. The 
thoughts and associations that followed had to do with 
pictures and stories of executions, and especially with 
the thought that the executioner, when he had fastened 
the cord about the criminal's neck arranges it so as to 
give the neck a twist, and thus hasten death. Asked 
against whom she felt a strong enmity at the present 
time, she named a sister-in-law, and related at length 
her bad qualities and malicious deeds, with which she 
had disturbed the family harmony, before so beautiful, 
after insinuating herself like a tame pigeon into the favour 
of her subsequent husband. Not long before a violent 
scene had taken place between her and the patient, 
which ended by the latter showing her to the door with 
the words : ' Get out ; I cannot endure a biting dog 
in my house.' Now it was clear whom the little white 
dog represented, and whose neck she was wringing in 
the dream. The sister-in-law is also a small person, 
with a remarkably white complexion." 1 The manifest 

1 " Contributions to Psycho-Analysis." Dr, 3. Ferenczi. 
Translated by Dr. E. Jones, 191 6. Badger, 



DREAMS 29 

content of this dream is very brief. The dreamer 
wrings the neck of the little white dog. The latent 
content is much more extensive. Only an epitome of 
it is given. It consists of a great complex of images 
and reminiscences. The meaning of the dream is 
rendered explicit. It is the satisfaction of a hostile 
tendency towards the sister-in-law. Thus we see, even 
in such a brief and apparently simple dream, the real 
meaning is very different from the superficial. 

Two questions will now present themselves to the 
reader's mind. How is the latent content of a dream 
discovered, and why does the dreamer take this round- 
about and obscure way of obtaining satisfaction ? 
For instance, in the dream just cited, why is the wrath 
vented on a little dog and not on its real object, the 
sister-in-law ? 



3. DREAM ANALYSIS. FREE ASSOCIATION 

Let us consider the first question, How is the latent 
content of a dream obtained ? Freud's answer is, 
By " free association." The patient is made comfort- 
able in an easy chair. Some analysts prefer the patient 
to recline upon a couch. The muscles are relaxed and 
the thoughts must be allowed to flow freely. So far the 
method is essentially similar to that of Suggestion. 
There is a suspension of the selecting activity of the 
self which is identical with the state of " relaxation " 
that is regarded as a necessary preliminary for effective 
suggestion. 1 But from this point the two methods 
diverge. When the state of relaxation has been induced 
suggestion proceeds by introducing the idea that the 
painful symptoms are passing away, that the patient 
is getting better and better. In psycho-analysis the 
element of suggestion is as far as possible eliminated. 

1 Cf. Baudouin, " Suggestion and Auto-Suggestion." Allen 
and Unwin. 



30 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 

The patient is instructed to give expression to what- 
ever thoughts come into the mind. There must be no 
selection. Good, bad, indifferent, trivial or profound 
they should be made known to the analyst. When 
these instructions have been made perfectly clear, the 
dream, which has been previously communicated to the 
analyst, is taken piece by piece, and the subject is 
requested to say just what thoughts arise as the mind 
contemplates any particular fragment thus submitted. 
The thought thus stimulated may appear utterly 
irrelevant. But it is essential that it should be freely 
communicated. Freud considers that the best part of 
the dream to begin with is that which is the most obscure. 
It is the tender spot. It is quite a common thing for 
the patient to say, when a portion of the dream is thus 
presented, that no thoughts arise in connexion with it. 
This is due either to resistance against the analyst 
recognized or unrecognized, or to inner resistance. 
Even in analysing one's own dreams one may come up 
against an apparently blank wall. Behind the wall 
there is something we don't want to see. If the analyst 
confidently assures the patient that the thoughts will 
come, this internal resistance may often be broken 
down. Resistance against the analyst at the beginning 
of an examination is due to the fact that the confidence 
of the subject has not been fully obtained before the 
inquiry is begun. It is perfectly obvious that if dreams 
reveal such intimate and painful matters of our life that 
we are trying to hide them even from ourselves, a very 
full degree of confidence will be necessary before they 
can be related to a second person. Resistance to the 
analyst, which arises at a later stage of the inquiry is 
due to another factor which Freud calls " Trans- 
ference." This we shall discuss later. From the fore- 
going it will be gathered that the patient, during free- 
association is in a very suggestive state of mind. It is 
therefore of the utmost importance that the analyst 
should reduce his rdle as far as possible, during this time. 



DREAMS 31 

to that of an impartial observer and recorder. It is a 
wise precaution to instruct the subject to keep the eyes 
closed during this part of the investigation. This shuts 
out one big source of external suggestion and affords the 
analyst greater freedom for the observation of facial 
movements and trivial gestures, which often throw 
considerable light on the mental processes. 

But by what right does Freud assume that this free- 
association method will yield reliable insight into the 
hidden mind processes ? The human mind under such 
conditions, — conditions which we have all experienced 
to some extent in moments of reverie, seems to be a 
somewhat unreasonable and unreliable thing. It is 
tossed about by the slightest wind of fancy, thoughts 
seem to spring up suddenly from nowhere, images the 
most fantastic take shape and vanish. Freud's assump- 
tion is based on the hypothesis that psychical process 
is just as much subject to law as any other process. 
The conscious mind, or selfconscious, as we should 
prefer to say, is teleologically determined, that is, it is 
governed by ideas of ends. The unconscious mind 
is governed by impulses towards ends of which the mind 
is not personally aware. But in neither realm does the 
mind work by chance. When the teleological activities 
of consciousness are suspended as explained above, we 
are able to observe the natural trend of the impulses 
of the unconscious. This hypothesis, of course, cannot 
be proved. But Freud maintains that it is abundantly 
confirmed by empirical observation. Free association 
then, is Freud's key to the interpretation of dreams. 
If it is proved to be unreliable then the door of the 
dream chamber cannot be opened, and the hidden pro- 
cesses of the mind must be regarded as an inexplicable 
mystery. But the application of the method brings its 
own conviction. With patient practice the reader 
can obtain sufficient insight into his own dreams to 
convince him of its value. It is wise in analysing one's 
own dreams to write down the dream as soon as possible 



32 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 

on waking. The analysis can be proceeded with at a 
later and probably more convenient time. The associa- 
tions should also be written down as they arrive. Some- 
times the meaning of the dream emerges with startling 
suddenness ; at other times it follows long and devious 
ways. 



4. CENSORSHIP AND REPRESSION 

This brings us to the second question which was 
raised above. Why does the dream not follow the 
obvious and direct way to achieve its satisfaction ? 
In some cases as we have seen, in children's dreams 
for instance, and thirst dreams, etc., it does follow the 
direct way. In the majority of adult dreams, however, 
its aim is anything but obvious. What is the reason 
for this ? Dreams we have seen are imaginary grati- 
fications of psychic tendencies. But these tendencies 
are very often unrecognized. That is, in Freudian 
terminology, dreams are the product of the unconscious. 
Now the reason for the failure to recognize these ten- 
dencies is that they are not acceptable to selfconscious- 
ness. What their specific nature is, we shall inquire 
more fully in the next chapter. For the present, it is 
sufficient for us to recognize that they are personally 
repugnant. They are the outlaws of psychic life. They 
are repressed. To effect an entrance into the citadel of 
selfconsciousness, they must either overpower the 
watchful sentinel of the self, or so disguise themselves 
as to evade its suspicions. The former sometimes 
happens, but it results in such distress that the dreamer 
awakes. Now it is the function of the dream, according 
to Freud, to guard sleep. The thirsty sleeper dreams of 
copious draughts and so can go on sleeping. But if 
the thirst is too intense to be satisfied by imaginary 
gratification there is an end to sleep. In the case of 
thirst there is no need for disguise. It is recognized 



DREAMS 33 

as a perfectly honourable and legitimate desire. But 
the desire to wring the neck of a near relative would 
probably be repugnant to the moral sense of most 
people and its gratification could only be granted by 
means of disguise. 

The disguise is due to the activity of what Freud calls 
the " endopsychic censor." Undesirable tendencies 
are repressed. They can only be gratified if they assume 
such disguise as will evade the vigilance of the censor. 
We must now examine more carefully these notions of 
censorship and repression. They are of the utmost 
importance for the right understanding of psycho- 
analysis. The adjective " endopsychic " simply means 
that the mind itself criticises its own tendencies. We 
are our own censors. The recent war has made us all 
familiar with the operations of the censor in the sphere 
of national affairs. Occasionally the censor was dis- 
regarded or defied. Revelations were made which 
disturbed and distressed the national mind. People 
were roused from the slumber of self-satisfaction. In 
the same way, as we have seen, the sleeper may be 
awakened by the overpowering of the endopsychic 
censor. On the other hand references were sometimes 
made to unpublished disasters in such a way that they 
escaped the watchful eye of the censor. Even official 
reports of reverses were often couched in such language 
as to give the impression that they were really victories. 
The object of this was, of course, the maintenance of 
national morale. Whether the role of the censor, even 
in our own country, was not too strictly regarded has 
been debated. It has been suggested that if the people 
had been more fully trusted, the temporary alarm would 
quickly have passed into a more bracing preparation for 
the struggle. But the authorities on these occasions 
were concerned only about the immediate effects of bad 
news. In this respect they resembled the individual 
unconscious. Dr. Rivers, in his " Instinct and the 
Unconscious," says, " The experience which tends to be 
3 



34 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 

forgotten or repressed is the immediately painful. If 
we forget an appointment or a letter in connexion with 
which we anticipate unpleasant emotions, the ultimate 
consequences may be even more unpleasant than the 
immediate experience from which we escape by the act 
of forgetting. If we were able to consider rationally 
the consequences of the lapse, we should find that in 
most cases the course that would give us least trouble 
would be to keep the appointment or to write the letter. 
The process of active forgetting takes no account of these 
ultimate consequences but is directed exclusively towards 
the avoidance of the more immediate pains and dis- 
comforts." 1 The "process of active forgetting " to 
which Dr. Rivers refers is due to the repressing activity 
of the censor. 

Another respect in which the endopsychic censor 
resembles the national official is in the delegation of 
power. So vast was the material to be examined, much 
of the work had to be done by subordinates. Certain 
kinds of news were suppressed without reference to the 
supreme censor. Only the most important and difficult 
questions were submitted to his personal examination. 
A similar division of labour may be found in the realm 
of the individual mind. Dr. Rivers in the volume just 
referred to, brings out very clearly the distinction 
between "witting" and "unwitting" repression. 
Probably every one can recall more than one occasion in 
which deliberate effort was made to banish some 
unpleasant experience from the mind. As a rule we 
try to get away from the painful items of our past. 
When this effort is deliberate we have witting repres- 
sion ; when it is spontaneous and unrecognized we have 
unwitting repression. This later activity Rivers has 
called " suppression," reserving the term " repression " 
for the deliberate and fully conscious effort. Witting 
repression corresponds with the activity of the supreme 

1 Page 29, " Instinct and the Unconscious." W. H. R. 
Rivers, M.D., F.R.S. Cambridge, 1920. [Italic ours.] 



DREAMS 35 

censor in national affairs ; unwitting repression corres- 
ponds with the more or less automatic functions of his 
subordinates. 

It has been objected to Freud's doctrine of the endo- 
psychic censor that it is merely metaphorical. What 
is the real psychological nature of the censor ? In the 
case of witting repression the answer it seems to us is 
obvious. It is the critical activity of self-consciousness. 
Impulses and experiences that conflict with the idea of 
the self that is dominant at the moment we regard as 
alien. They are banished. If they are so strong as to 
persist in spite of this decree they give rise, according 
to Rivers, to the nervous disorder known as anxiety or 
repression neurosis. The psychological nature of 
unwitting repression is not as simple or obvious. It is 
due to the operation of consciousness at the sub-personal 
level. In Chapter I we showed how an impulse or 
tendency may operate without our being personally 
aware of it. In a similar manner it is possible for one 
impulse or system of impulses to operate in the sup- 
pression of another impulse without the conflict coming 
into the realm of full consciousness. For instance, it 
is possible for a man to be so absorbed in his work that 
the appetite for food may be temporarily suppressed. 
There is in this case no deliberate effort. It is simply 
the repression of one interest by another. This 
unwitting repression is the activity on which the whole 
psycho-analytical theory is built. And it must be borne 
in mind that when an impulse or experience is repressed 
it does not cease to exist. It exerts a bias on the whole 
trend of the individual life. It may be that it produces 
vague and inexplicable feelings of uneasiness, or an 
inability to perform certain actions, or a compulsion to 
perform others, or a mysterious fear of certain kinds of 
places, or animals. But in all these experiences the 
individual is oblivious of the real cause which lies in the 
unwitting repression of the memory of some painful 
event. He may try to explain his actions or his fears 



36 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 

but he cannot give the real reason. He is like a person 
who receives a command in the hypnotic state to 
perform some strange action after he returns to waking 
consciousness. He forgets the command but obeys it 
all the same. 

According to Freud the critical vigilance of the censor 
is relaxed in sleep. This relaxation apparently varies 
in degree. In the lowest degree the dream is an obvious 
gratification of crude primitive appetites. In its 
highest, the tendencies that have been refused satis- 
faction during our waking life, can only find fulfilment 
by means of the most elaborate and far-fetched disguise. 
The censor admits the meaningless or ludicrous, but 
refuses to accept that which is flagrantly at variance 
with its sense of the right and proper. The degree of 
disguise is determined by the relative strengths of the 
repressed tendencies in operation and the vigilance 
of the censor. We can watch the process at work in 
day-dreams when we indulge in fantasies that are a 
compensation for the unrealized aspirations of our 
workaday world. The aspiring lover drifts in imagina- 
tion with his loved one along some peaceful stream, 
or dies in despair upon her doorstep. The unsuccessful 
business man sees in fancy, branch after branch develop 
under his capable management, or else the whole 
concern collapses in bankruptcy with himself as a central 
figure in the drama of cruel fate. How far imagination 
is indulged in these day-dreams will depend on the 
relative strength of the love and ambition and of the 
weariness or hopelessness of the moment. A study of 
one's own day-dreams, in our opinion, affords a self- 
knowledge and an introduction to the simpler 
mechanisms of real dreams which would prove most 
helpful in the gaining of real psycho-analytical insight. 
But this is not to be obtained by five minutes' casual 
introspection. Day-dreams are only a degree less 
delusive than night dreams. 
And now to sum up what we have endeavoured to 



DREAMS 37 

explain in the foregoing paragraphs — the " meaning- 
less " dream, that is, the ordinary adult dream is the 
disguised satisfaction of a repressed tendency. 



5. REPRESSION, DISSOCIATION AND FORGETTING 

Before we pass on to consider yet another objection 
to this theory we must consider more carefully the 
effects of repression. We shall use this term, repression, 
to signify unwitting repression unless the contrary is 
clearly indicated. The effects of witting repression 
we can all easily observe. The effort to forget is too 
painfully obvious to pass by unnoticed. But the effects 
of unwitting repression are always misunderstood. To 
Freud is due the credit for their elucidation and the 
revelation of their history. 

A simple illustration, for which the reader will 
probably be able to find parallels in his own experience, 
will show what is meant. Some time ago I met a friend, 
by chance, in the street. Our previous meeting had been 
a painful one for us both. My self-esteem had received 
a rude blow. But a little reflection was enough to 
convince me that my friend was not to blame under the 
circumstances, and I resolved that it should make no 
difference to our friendship. Accordingly, at the 
second meeting, I promised to call next day. But it 
was not until a week later that my promise was remem- 
bered. Such forgetting cannot be explained as mere 
oversight. The engagement could not be regarded as 
too trivial to be recalled. Why then was it forgotten ? 
Freud in his " Psycho-pathology of Everyday Life," has 
shown that such forgetting is due to repression. It is 
not a passive process but an active one. Apart from my 
resolve there was something within me that shrank from 
a renewal of the painful experience. The tendencies 
of the " unconscious " were at variance with the purpose 
of personal consciousness. There was a temporary 



38 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 

" dissociation/ ' a cleavage of interests, and a consequent 
forgetting. It is not enough to secure dissociation, that 
there should be conflict of impulses. One of them must 
attain such ascendancy as to drive the other, temporarily 
at least, out of the realm of personal consciousness. For 
the time being the repressed experience is beyond 
recall. The hypocrite, who, to use a common witticism 
" prays to his God on Sunday, and preys on his neigh- 
bours on Monday," may not be a conscious hypocrite. 
There may be such a dissociation of interests that he is 
utterly unaware of his inconsistency. This dissociation 
may be so extensive and complete that we may have 
the phenomena of double or even multiple personality, 
a veritable Dr. Jeykell and Mr. Hyde. The " sub- 
conscious " school, to which we referred in Chapter I, 
has made extensive use of this conception of dissociation 
to explain the phenomena of hypnotism, amnesia 
(pathological forgetting), multiple personality, etc. 
The idea has proved both valid and useful. But Freud 
goes deeper still and asks, How does this dissociation 
come about ? His answer is, By repression. Repres- 
sion produces dissociation, and dissociation results in 
forgetting. There are two types of forgetting. One 
type is due to lack of interest. I may read the results 
of last Saturday's football match and forget them 
immediately, because I have little interest in football. I 
forget a painful engagement, not because I am not 
interested. I have a painful interest in it. But I 
forget it because it is repressed by a positive aversion 
to unpleasant experiences. And we cannot emphasize 
too much the fact that repressed, forgotten experiences 
are not " dead and done with " ; they live on and exert 
an unrecognized influence upon our waking life, and in 
our dreams and moments of absent-mindedness find 
their most unfettered expression. 



DREAMS 39 



6. FEAR DREAMS 



Let us turn now to another objection to Freud's dream 
theory. Even in the form we have stated it, substitut- 
ing " satisfaction of tendency " for " wish-fulfilment," 
the common phenomena of " fear dreams " apparently 
shatter the whole hypothesis. 

Before attempting to answer this objection we must 
point out that there is no one simple explanation which 
will account for all fear dreams. Each dream must be 
taken separately and explained by its analysis. This 
is obviously an impossible task. Absolute proof of our 
contention cannot therefore be established. But it is 
possible to indicate certain considerations which will 
show how such dreams can be understood. 

First of all we must bear in mind that a certain degree 
of fear is a source of satisfaction. Without it life would 
lose its adventure. A fear dream may be the realization 
of a desire to escape from the humdrum round of real 
life. As such it may be classed with " blood-curdling " 
novels, cinema films and theatrical displays which 
appeal mainly to this emotion. It may be objected 
that in the dream the individual plays the leading part, 
while in these entertainments he is a mere spectator. 
To this it is sufficient to reply that the picture or the play 
is only really effective in so far as it compels the spectator 
to " identify " himself with the fortunes of the dramatis 
persona. 

But when fear is intensified into terror, or because of 
the vague mystery of its object, assumes the form of 
anxiety, then this explanation obviously breaks down. 
In the case of terror we reach, as Freud points out, the 
limit of the hypothesis. In the dream, as in real life, 
terror is due to a feeling of utter helplessness in the face 
of an imminent and terrible danger. The desire to 
escape is frustrated. But just at the moment the fatal 
blow is about to fall the sleeper invariably awakes. If 



40 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 

we accept Freud's theory that the dream is the guardian 
of sleep we shall see that his " wish-fulfilment " conten- 
tion breaks down just at the point that the dream itself 
fails. If we consider that the terror dream invalidates 
this dream theory, then, in the name of consistency, we 
must deny that in waking life the fear-flight instinct 
is a mechanism of self-preservation, because in the 
extreme case of terrified collapse it fails to fulfil its 
function. 

The case of anxiety is more difficult. Anxiety is 
akin to suspense. 1 In both there is an element of hope, 
however small. But the hope does not relieve. It 
constitutes that incalculable element which makes dread 
harder to bear for many natures than the actual calamity. 
The difference between anxiety and suspense lies in the 
sense of responsibility. In true suspense this sense is 
absent because nothing can be done. We can only 
watch and wait. But in anxiety there is always, at 
least, a feeling that some measures of precaution or 
remedy can be taken. Hence the sense of respon- 
sibility. For instance, during the recent war, relatives 
at home were in a state of suspense as to the safety of 
their loved ones at the front. They could do nothing 
one way or the other to affect it. But the element of 
anxiety was also revealed in the shoals of letters and 
parcels that were dispatched every day. It was possible 
to some degree to relieve the mental burden and the 
physical hardships of the fighting men. To this extent 
suspense was changed into anxiety. This illustration 
will make clear what Freud means when he says that 
anxiety is a " defence mechanism." It was a defence 
against the dread that the " boys " might be suffering 
from an insufficient supply of clothing, food, etc. 
Anxiety in dreams, and in waking life, is the emotion 

1 The writer has no record of a genuine suspense dream. If 
such a dream is possible it would constitute, he feels, an 
unanswerable argument against Freud's theory. Temporary 
suspense there may be, but it is bound to obtain relief or end in 
the terror that awakens the sleeper. 



DREAMS 41 

that prompts to the provision of safeguards against 
some dreaded danger. If these measures are successful 
the wish is fulfilled. If they fail, anxiety issues in 
collapse, and the sleeper awakes. 

These are general considerations which will at least 
show that the Freudian theory is not to be dismissed 
summarily because many dreams are coloured by the 
painful emotion of fear. When we come down from the 
general to the particular we find still further evidence 
which confirms the theory. Let us consider very 
briefly two types of anxiety dreams — those which centre 
round examinations and the missing of trains. 

The clue to the understanding of examination dreams 
was given to Freud by his colleague Dr. Stekel. 1 The 
latter observed that in his experience the examination 
dream occurs only to those who have passed the 
examination, never to those who have gone to pieces 
on it. In his waking life the individual is confronted 
by some difficult problem or test. In his dreams he 
goes back to his old examinations. It is as though the 
dream said to him, " You worried about your examina- 
tion. There was no need, you got through. You will 
get through your present troubles." 

The missing of trains finds a similar consoling explana- 
tion. An obvious and common association in such 
dreams is, train — depart — death. The missing of the 
train in such a case implies therefore — you are not 
going to die yet. From this simple example it will 
be seen how important the analysis by association is,) 
if we are to arrive at the true interpretation. We do 
not wish, however, that it should be taken for granted 
that all dreams of this type have the same meaning. 
The only safe way of interpretation is by careful analysis 
of such instances. 

There is another type of dream which we may con- 
sider here. It is the dream of the death of relatives and 
friends. These fall roughly into two classes — one, in 
1 " Interpretation of Dreams," p. 231. 



42 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 

which the dreamer feels the sorrow natural to such an 
occasion, and another in which no such emotion is felt. 
In the second case the dream tendencies have no concern 
with the death. Analysis reveals the death is just the 
occasion for the realization of utterly extraneous 
interests. Freud gives a particularly good example 
of this type. 1 A young lady patient related the dream 
thus : " I saw little Charles lying dead before me. He 
was lying in his little coffin, his hands folded ; there were 
candles all about, and, in short, it was just like the time 
of little Otto's death which shocked me so profoundly." 
The analysis revealed that on the occasion of the funeral 
of Charles' little brother Otto, a certain professor had 
been present, whom the young lady loved and had 
reasonable expectations of marrying. But the inter- 
ference of relatives had put an end to the expectations. 
The love, however, persisted and the young lady sought 
every opportunity of seeing her beloved at a distance. 
The dream meant, therefore, that she wanted a renewal 
of the old understanding and the opportunity to get 
into such close relations to the professor as the funeral 
of her nephew Otto had provided. At the time she 
related the dream she had in her bag a ticket for a 
concert at which the professor was to be present. 

But in the type of death dream where sorrow is 
present the explanation is different. Analysis reveals 
that the sorrowful emotion is the outcome of a repressed 
" wish that the person in question may die," or, as we 
should prefer to put it, it is the result of repressed hostile 
tendencies. These tendencies probably belong to 
early childhood. They are not incompatible with real 
affection. Love and hate quickly succeed one another 
in the changeable world of a child's emotions. As 
a rule the hatred is suppressed and forgotten. But it 
lives on in the form of excessive sorrow at the mere 
idea of harm befalling the loved one. The bitterest 
drop in the cup of bereavement is the memory of un- 
1 Op. cit., p. 128. 



DREAMS 43 

kindness or indifference to the one we have lost. The 
relation of brothers and sisters, children and parents, 
is not that unmingled affection which some of us would 
fain persuade ourselves it is. Rebellion and jealousy 
play a part in the drama of early life which is uncon- 
genial to the standards of later years. I have an 
authentic record of a tiny tot who, on being taken to see 
her newly born little sister, promptly slapped the baby's 
face. My own little boy of eleven months is generally 
regarded as a bright and lovable little fellow, but if his 
strongest appetites or impulses are thwarted he is 
capable of displaying a passion which would be alarm- 
ing if it were equalled by his physical strength and skill. 
Life and property are not sacred to the child. He knows 
nothing of the rights of others. He feels only his own 
imperious desires, and nothing must stand in the way of 
their gratification. As the child grows these passionate 
impulses are usually repressed. But if they are merely 
forced into the background of the unconscious, they will 
live on and find expression of some kind, if it is only 
in the world of dreams. This conception of the nature 
of childhood's passions has met with great opposition. 
It certainly does not express the whole truth. But we 
shall consider the question more fully when we deal with 
the nature of the unconscious. 



7. SOURCES OF DREAMS 

The consideration of the part childhood impulses 
play in dream life brings us to the question of the sources 
of dreams. There are three — (1) recent experiences ; 
(2) childhood experiences ; (3) sensational experiences. 

The dream never deals with trivialities, but always with 
vital concerns of the individual. If this is apparently 
contradicted by the manifest content it is confirmed 
by the latent content. According to Freud there is 
present in every dream, some element, important or 



44 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 

trivial, which is taken from the experiences of the 
previous day. There is a mass of evidence to support 
this, but the writer is unable to confirm it as universally- 
true in his own experience. But there is no doubt 
that it is true of a vast number of cases. 

That the dream usually involves childhood experiences 
will not be so readily admitted. Many dreams find an 
obvious and satisfactory explanation by means of 
comparatively late experiences. But a dream may have 
more than one meaning. It may have many. If the 
analysis is continued it is often found that earlier and 
yet earlier periods of life are involved. At first sight 
this may seem to prove that the method of interpreta- 
tion is worthless, or at least that its results are unreliable. 
But a right conception of the nature of consciousness 
will help us to see this problem in its true light. Our 
whole past lives on in the present, not indeed in the 
form of a storehouse of impressions and memories, 
which may or may not be accessible to us, which may 
or may not be exerting an influence on present 
experience ; but the past lives on as an ever-active 
determination of the present. According to this view, 
memory is just the reference of these determining 
impulses to the experiences in which they originated. 
" Our past, as a whole," Bergson says, " is made mani- 
fest to us in its impulse ; it is felt in the form of tendency 
although a small part of it only is known in the form of 
idea." Now an idea is just an impulse rendered 
luminous and relatively definite. Mere impulse lacks 
this quality of luminosity and definiteness. It may 
find its satisfaction in various ways, so long as these are 
not inconsistent with the general trend of the impulse. 
What happens then in dream analysis is this. During 
free association, active interest in the external world 
is suspended. A fragment of the dream is presented 
and the appropriate impulse is thus stimulated. This 
impulse now must find its gratification in past 
experiences. Occasionally some one experience stands 



DREAMS 45 

out as pre-eminent, but often enough it has close rivals. 
Take for instance, the analysis of the dream of the 
wringing of the neck of the little dog (page 28). Here 
the patient has a succession of impressions, wringing 
the necks of pigeons and fowls, pictures and stories of 
executions, all of which furnish more or less satisfactory 
outlets for the impulse. If we were able to follow up 
the analysis, we should probably find in spite of the 
patient's assertion that she " could not hurt a fly," that 
her sister-in-law was not the only person against whom 
her unconscious harboured a vindictive design. 

A dream of my own may serve to make these points 
clear. In my dream I stood at the lower end of the down 
platform of the railway station of my native place. A 
train was just moving out on that side but in the wrong 
direction. A man of athletic build, clad in a light grey 
suit, ran along the platform and attempted to board the 
train. But losing his foothold he slipped between the 
platform and the footboard. He was followed by a 
stouter person bearing on his back a big square box, 
so large that it would have been useless for him to 
attempt to enter any compartment. When the train 
was gone I was talking to a third person whom we will 
designate C. There was another train at the opposite 
platform going in the right direction, and as it began 
to move off C ran across the metals and boarded it from 
the permanent way. C was the only one of the three 
persons whom I definitely recognized. The dream 
occurred at a time when I was trying to fill a post which 
had been resigned after an angry altercation. The post 
had been temporarily filled but the man I regarded as 
being most suitable for the work was C. Starting from 
this point with my free associations I recognized the 
athletic figure as the one who was doing temporary 
duty. Though I could not see his face I identified him 
by his build and his clothes. The man with the box 
was apparently the man who had resigned. The mean- 
ing of my dream was thus made clear. Though I had no 



46 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 

personal objection towards the temporary substitute, 
h s admitted lack of proficiency led me to desire that his 
engagement should soon be terminated. Thus in the 
dream he meets with an accident and fails to board the 
train. C was the candidate I favoured and whose elec- 
tion was secured in the dream under the symbol of his 
successful attempt to board the train which was going 
in the right direction. This interpretation involves 
only recent experience. But if we start as Freud 
advised from the most obscure part of the dream, we 
shall see that it leads to earlier experiences, and to the 
fulfilment of different desires. Now the most vague 
part of the dream was the accident. Starting from this 
I recall a similar accident at the same station, the story 
of which greatly impressed me as a boy. From this 
point the associations run along two different but 
ultimately converging lines. The first line begins with 
the memory of an occasion, when, in my early years I 
attempted to board a swiftly moving tramcar. I was 
carrying a basket and the attempt was clumsily made. 
The result was that I was flung down into the road, but 
fortunately not hurt. From this, memories of early 
blunders and painful experiences crop up, the conse- 
quences of which I am aware persist up to the present. 
The two men who failed to enter the train seem to 
stand for wrong personal interests badly executed. 
Their identity is blurred. I do not wish to remember or 
recognize them. But C, with whom I am more recently 
acquainted, apparently represents new and right 
interests, which in my dream, at least, are being fulfilled. 
His identity is clearly perceived. Nevertheless he 
boards the train, after it has started, not from the platform 
but from the permanent way. This apparently trifling 
detail of the dream confirms the course of the free 
associations which lead on from childhood mistakes to 
the present hope and assurance that analytical insight 
(a belated and unorthodox attempt to board the train 
of personal ambitions) will enable me to nullify the 



DREAMS 47 

effects of the blunders of early years. The second line 
of associations, starting from the accident in the dream, 
runs briefly in a similar direction. It goes back again 
to boyhood. I remember very vividly the story of how a 
little baby relative of mine had witnessed a shocking 
railway accident. For long after this the mere sight 
of sparrows on the railway line caused the little one 
to cry out in alarm. Since then that relative has 
grown up and has suffered from some trouble, which to 
me, knowing few of the details, has been obscure. My 
next association is a recent conversation with a medical 
friend as to the likelihood of such a case proving amen- 
able to psycho-analytical treatment. Thus along 
different lines the associations converge on a hope that 
increased insight into hidden psychical processes will 
result in a more effective and satisfactory adaptation 
to life's demands. Even now the interpretation is not 
exhausted. But as Freud points out every dream 
analysis leads into the infinite. It cannot be exhausted. 
Another point this dream illustrates besides the child- 
hood memories, is the ego-centric interests of the dream. 
The hero of the dream is always the self. The manifest 
content of the dream, as in the one we have just cited, 
may appear to contradict this contention, but the latent 
content abundantly confirms it. 

The third source from which dreams are drawn is 
sensational experience. We use the word " sensa- 
tional " in its psychological and not in its everyday 
significance. Doubtless the reader will be able to 
supply instances from memory of dreams which have 
been woven round some bodily sensation. Sensations 
of pain, hunger, cold, etc., and those arising from 
digestive disorders, and so on, may all act as dream 
stimuli. In fact attempts have been made to explain 
all dreams along this line. But the attempt has met 
with little success. In the first place it has been found 
impossible to identify any sensational element in a vast 
number of dreams, and in the second place, even where 



48 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 

such experiences are present, we have still to explain 
the strange use that is made of them. Digestive 
disorders may favour dream-making, but they do not 
explain the form the dream takes. We cannot leave 
this aspect of the subject without drawing attention to 
the fact that the dream may not merely use a sensa- 
tional element, but may definitely and emphatically 
deny it. Freud gives a specially good example of this. 
At a time when he was suffering from furunculosis, he 
dreamt he was riding a horse, a thing that would have 
been utterly impossible under the conditions. In the 
dream the wish to be free from this painful disease was 
thus fulfilled. 

8. DREAM WORK 

We have seen that in nearly all adult dreams the 
tendency fulfilment is nearly always more or less 
disguised, and that this disguise is due to the repressing 
activity of the endopsychic censor. We must now 
briefly consider how the disguise is brought about. 

The first factor that plays a part in this work is that 
of condensation. A comparison of the manifest and 
latent contents of any dream will show that the latter 
is very much more extensive than the former. Each 
item of the dream is over-determined. Thus the 
railway accident which occurs in the dream related in 
the last section is determined by not less than three 
separate experiences, the memory of the story of a 
similar accident at the same station, the memory of the 
attempt to board a tramcar, and the memory of the 
startling accident witnessed by my baby relative. This 
condensation may take place by the processes of 
identification and of fusion. In the latter process two 
or more different persons or places are fused together. 
The dream person may have hair that reminds the 
dreamer of one acquaintance, a beard that reminds him 
of a second, and a manner that arouses thoughts of a 



DREAMS 49 

third. The process of fusion indicates that for the 
dreamer these persons have some emotional significance 
for him in common. The fusion of words is of frequent 
occurrence. One of the instances given by Freud — 
Norekdal, is commonly cited. It is the fusion of two of 
the names of Ibsen's characters, Nora and Ekdal. Dr. 
Ernest Jones gives other illustrations — Magna from 
Maggie and Edna ; Kipperling from Rippling, and 
Kipper. 1 In the process of identification we have some- 
thing which is akin to substitution. Two persons or 
places are merged together till the identity of the one 
is almost completely lost in the other. It is, of course, 
the obscured person or place that is really the important 
one. The commonest identification is of ourselves 
with some other person. In the train dream we have 
analysed it will be seen how I identify myself with all 
three persons concerned, but it is only in the case of C 
that the process is completely satisfactory. 

The second factor at work in dream disguise is that of 
displacement. This is the name given to that dream 
activity which provides the dream with a false centre 
of interest. The thing that stands out most clearly 
in the dream is often the least important factor. It 
is the part that is most obscure and most readily 
forgotten that is usually of most vital concern. The 
reason for this is obvious if we accept the theory of a 
repressing censorship. The emotions aroused in the 
dream are frequently incongruous, or out of proportion 
with the object that arouses them. This, according to 
Freud, is because the emotion has been displaced and 
attached to some relatively insignificant object, with 
the result that the vigilance of the censor is evaded. 
Thus we see in the dream of the train, if we begin the 
free associations from the clearly recognized C, we are 
led to a relatively superficial interpretation which was 
in complete harmony with my fully conscious and 

1 " Papers on Psycho-analysis." Dr. Ernest Jones, pp. 92 ff. 
Bailliere, Tyndall and Cox, 191 8. 

4 



50 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 

avowed intentions. There was no need to dream since 
there was little or no repression, nor was I so concerned 
about the problem that it should disturb my sleep. 
But the interest of the dream belongs mainly to the 
accident, which was rather obscure and not of great 
manifest emotional significance. Starting from this 
point my associations are more personal and intimate, 
so much so that I find I have invented the want of space 
as an excuse for abbreviating and generalizing 
them. 

These two factors, Condensation and Displacement, 
are the " two craftsmen to whom we may chiefly attribute 
the moulding of the dream." 1 But there are two other 
factors which determine the course of the dream, regard 
for presentability and secondary elaboration. The effect 
of the former is the substitution of harmless and innocent 
operations for activities which would arouse the opposi- 
tion of the censor. We are thus brought face to face 
with the question of symbolism in dreams. Freud 
claims from the examination of an enormous number 
of dreams that certain activities in dreams have 
practically always a common significance. This is 
antecedently probable, but we believe that the reader 
will be wise in attempting to interpret his own dreams, 
to ignore these symbols and adhere steadfastly to the 
method of free association. To deal with the question 
of symbolism at this stage would only result in impart- 
ing a bias to these associations. We therefore strongly 
recommend that dreams should be interpreted first of 
all without a knowledge of symbolism. It is more 
difficult, but the results will be more convincing. Later, 
if more information is desired on this subject, the 
reader might refer to the works of Freud, Jones and 
Silberer. 

Secondary elaboration is due to the censor. Not 
everything in the dream is due to the unconscious. 
Many people will remember occasions, when during 

1 "Interpretation of Dreams," p. 286. 



DREAMS 51 

the course of the dream, the dreamer says to himself, 
"It is only a dream." In this way the censor 
is consoled for having allowed repugnant material 
to creep in. But the general effect of secondary 
elaboration is to bring the dream thoughts into a more 
consistent unity resembling the operations of conscious 
thought. 

But we cannot close this brief exposition of Freud's 
dream theory without drawing attention to one more 
point. Freud maintains that all the dreams that occur 
in one night are concerned with the same interests. An 
interesting confirmation of this occurred in the 
experience of the writer a few months ago. A married 
lady friend related a dream in which she was playing 
the piano. But instead of ordinary music she was 
confronted by exquisitely beautiful vases. Her playing 
translated their visible into audible beauty. A few 
associations were sufficient to lay bare the underlying 
wish — the desire for a child. When this was intimated 
to the dreamer, she immediately confessed that she had 
had a second dream in which the wish was more 
explicitly manifested, thus confirming Freud's con- 
tention that later dreams are usually less disguised 
expressions of earlier ones. 



9. JUNG S THEORY 

The exposition of dream theory given above is an 
attempt to state as briefly and clearly as possible the 
doctrines of Freud, to whom is due the credit or, as many 
think, the discredit of opening up the dream world to 
the light of waking consciousness. We must now con- 
sider the modifications of this theory introduced by 
Dr. Jung of Zurich. 

In the first place we should bear in mind the emphatic 
and oft repeated assertion of Jung that, as far as the 
theory of dreams is concerned, his contentions do not 



52 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 

contradict the theory we have expounded, but 
supplement it. 

The elaboration of the doctrine affects three main 
points : (a) compensation ; (b) symbolism, and (c) 
fmalism. 

(a) Compensation. — Jung maintains that dreams have 
a compensating function and cites the example of 
Nebuchadnezzar's dream in the fourth chapter of Daniel. 
" He dreamed of a tree which had raised its head even 
up to heaven and now must be hewn down. This is a 
dream which is obviously a counterpoise to the exagge- 
rated feeling of royal power." 1 Vicious dreams he 
regards as a compensation for the suppressed evil 
tendencies of a virtuous life. Here we are bound to 
confess that we feel he carries his theory of compensation 
too far. As we shall endeavour to show in the next 
chapter, the unconscious knows nothing of the distinc- 
tion between good and evil. These are distinctions 
which belong entirely to the realm of consciousness. 
But apart from this, Jung's compensation idea is merely 
another way of putting Freud's wish-fulfilment theory. 
But it raises an interesting question which Freud states 
and answers thus. " Should we take lightly the ethical 
significance of the suppressed wishes which as they now 
create dreams, may some day create other things ? I 
do not feel justified in answering these questions. I 
have not thought further on this side of the dream 
problem. I believe, however, that at all events, the 
Roman Emperor was in the wrong who ordered one of 
his subjects to be executed because the latter dreamt 
that he had killed the Emperor. He should first have 
endeavoured to discover the significance of the dream ; 
most probably it was not what it seemed to be. And 
even if a dream of different content had the significance 
of this offence against majesty, it would have still been 
in place to remember the words of Plato, that the 
virtuous man contents himself with dreaming that which 
1 " Analytical Psychology," Jung, p. 281. 



DREAMS 53 

the wicked man does in actual life. I am, therefore, of 
opinion that it is best to accord freedom to dreams." 1 
It would be a rash thing for the present writer to dogma- 
tize where such an experienced authority is diffident. 
That the manifest content of dreams can be influenced 
is indubitable ; and more than this the writer is con- 
vinced that the affective quality can be to some extent 
modified by suggestion. But whether the attempt to 
control dreams without a radical sublimation of the 
unconscious processes would be a wise course is a 
question which we feel unable to answer. On the other 
hand there is considerable evidence to show that psycho- 
analytical treatment is attended by marked changes 
in dream tendencies. And the writer's experience is 
that, at least, a marked improvement in dream quality 
may be achieved without deterioration in conscious life, 
if this is accompanied by the insight into unconscious 
processes such as psycho-analysis affords. Indeed, it 
seems reasonable on the basis of Freud's theory to 
question whether any sublimation is real that is not 
attended by dream improvement. 

(b) Symbolism. — The second point on which Jung 
differs from Freud is the question of symbolism. We 
have seen that the latter claims that certain operations 
have a common symbolic significance. We have 
refrained from giving an account of these so that the 
reader may interpret his dreams without being biased 
by the suggestion these contain. Jung cites the follow- 
ing dream of one of his patients. " I was going up a 
flight of stairs with my mother and sister. When we 
reached the top I was told that my sister was soon to 
have a child." Now according to Freud, going upstairs 
has a common symbolic meaning. But Jung asks, 
" If I say that the stairs are a symbol, . . . whence do 
I obtain the right to regard the mother, the sister, and 
the child as concrete ; that is, as not symbolic ? " 2 



1 Freud, op. cit., p. 492. 

2 Jung, op. cit., p. 301. 



54 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 

This objection is apparently unanswerable. In any case 
the procedure by thorough free association is in accord 
with the principles of both schools. 

(c) Finalism. — This question is of great practical and 
theoretical importance. Jung fully admits the adequacy 
of the theory we have endeavoured to expound in the 
foregoing pages, as a causal explanation of dreams. It 
answers satisfactorily the questions, What is the nature 
of a dream, and how does it become to be what it is ? 
But he contends that we must go further and ask, 
What is the dream's purpose ? The answer that has 
been already given to this question, that it is to guard 
sleep, he regards not as untrue, but insufficient. The 
tendencies that are active in the dream are not fully 
denned in terms of their origin, but they are only fully 
understood when we take into account their ends or 
objects. This is what he means when he says that the 
causal explanation of dreams must be supplemented 
by the final. Every dream therefore may be interpreted 
in two ways, in terms of the past experience in which 
it finds its material, and also in terms of anticipated 
experience in which it finds its satisfaction. But Jung 
has weakened his contention by the introduction of 
moral distinctions into the realm of the unconscious. 
Both he and Freud have failed to take into account the 
" herd instinct." Now this instinct is just as egocentric 
and non-moral as the egotistic and sex instincts. It is 
only altruistic in its effects. The conflict between the 
herd instinct and the other two provides the basis for 
moral life as soon as self consciousness dawns. But the 
wolf that relinquishes private pursuits at the call of the 
pack does not make a moral choice. It is just a question 
of the relative strength of two impulses. This criticism 
affects mainly the theoretical consistency of Jung's 
position, but it is not without its bearings on the practical 
side. We shall understand this better if we take a 
concrete example. One of his patients related the 
following dream. "lam standing in a strange garden, 



DREAMS 55 

and pluck an apple from a tree. I look about cautiously 
to make sure that no one sees me." 1 The dream was 
attended by the " feeling of having a bad conscience/ ' 
We will leave the causal explanation with just this 
remark that it revealed as wrong but was not so regarded 
by the patient. According to Jung this feeling of guilt 
was due to an unconscious moral impulse. " By dis- 
regarding these things he was really overlooking some- 
thing in himself, for he possesses a moral standard and 
a moral need just like any other man." We should 
prefer to explain the feeling of guilt as due to the activity 
of herd instinct. 2 The practical result of this distinction 
would be that he might have been right in spite of the 
feeling of guilt. As long as the conflict was on the level 
of subpersonal consciousness the unrecognized operation 
of this instinct would account for this feeling. But when 
the real nature of the conflict has been rendered explicit 
in the full light of personal consciousness then the man 
is capable of exercising real moral choice. Then he may 
rightly decide to do the act which had been the real 
cause of his guilty feeling, unless we hold that the herd 
is the final arbiter of right and wrong. But this brings 
us face to face with questions of ethics. And here we 
are compelled to side with Jung as against Freud. 

Let us look at the problem in the light of another 
concrete incident. A man comes to a psycho-analyst 
for the treatment of psycho-sexual impotence, that is, 
sexual impotence due to mental causes. The man is 
freed from his disability by the treatment. Here, 
according to the Vienna school the treatment ends. 

1 Op. cit., p. 303. Readers who wish for further acquaintance 
with Jung's work would be well advised to begin with his " Ana- 
lytical Psychology." 

2 This does not mean that the existence of conscience is denied, 
or that it is merely the blind operation of herd instinct. Con- 
science operates only on the level of full self consciousness. It 
is not merely an emotion ; nor is it a kind of moral " faculty." 
It is the self passing moral judgment upon the self. In the case 
mentioned above there appears to be no real moral judgment, 
but only herd emotion. 



56 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 

It is no concern of the physician what the man does with 
his newly found freedom. He may wreck the life of 
some trusting girl, or help to swell the trade of the 
prostitute. But we ask, Can such a man be regarded as 
truly free when he is actuated by such impulses ? 
Answer the question in which way we will we are face 
to face with moral issues. To ignore them is not to 
evade them. They cannot be evaded. To consider 
them is to grant the fundamental contentions which lie 
at the heart of Jung's position. For ourselves we cannot 
see how the question of mental health can be isolated 
from the question of moral well-being. We are quite 
aware that it may be a doctor's duty in what we may 
call the realm of physical medicine, to restore to health 
and continued depredation some sick scoundrel, but we 
cannot consider that in the realm of mental medicine 
a doctor has completed his cure, if he has left his patient 
with anti-social tendencies. What are really anti- 
social tendencies may perhaps be a question of debate, 
but it cannot be a question to be ignored. 



CHAPTER IV 
THE NATURE OF THE UNCONSCIOUS 

THE dream, it is claimed, is the via regia into the 
unconscious. We are now in a position, therefore, 
to pursue that road of discovery and explore 
those hidden processes of the mind. But the reader 
who wishes to form an impartial judgment on the 
nature of the processes will be well advised to defer 
the reading of this chapter till he has thoroughly analysed 
a few of his own dreams in the way we have described. 
The thorough analysis of a few dreams will be far more 
valuable and illuminating than the cursory examination 
of a larger number. To enable the reader to form such 
an unbiased judgment we have refrained hitherto from 
the consideration of the question of symbolism, and 
from any detailed consideration of the nature of the 
tendencies that find their satisfaction in dream activity. 
The key to the dream lies in free association. The 
association cannot be really free if it is influenced by 
preconceived theories. But with patience and practice 
there should be no insuperable difficulty in obtaining 
that state of drifting consciousness which is the pre- 
requisite of really free association. 



I. TYPES OF UNCONSCIOUS TENDENCY 

Having made this suggestion let us turn to the con- 
siderations with which this chapter is concerned — the 
nature of the unconscious processes The unconscious 

57 



58 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 

consists, not of ideas or emotions, but of tendencies. 
It is true that psycho-analysts often use the terms 
" unconscious idea," etc., but we have seen that this 
usage is undesirable and we believe unnecessary. An 
unconscious idea is not an idea at all. It is simply a 
tendency. An unconscious emotion is not an emotion. 
It is sometimes described asa" pent up " emotion, and 
as such it plays a large part, as we shall see later, in 
one form of psycho-therapy. But " pent up " emotion 
will be better understood and described as a feeling of 
tension due to the unresolved conflict of tendencies. 
The tension is not unconscious. It is usually in the 
very focus of consciousness. But the tendencies that 
produce it may be unrecognized. Indeed, they may be 
beyond the possibility of recognition by means of 
volitional attention, and in this case they would belong 
to that realm which Freud has named the unconscious. 
If they can be recognized by voluntary attention 
they belong to the sphere of the preconscious. At 
the actual moment of recognition they are fully 
conscious. 

The concern of psycho-analysis is chiefly with the 
tendencies that are described as unconscious. These 
fall into three classes. In the first class we have the 
tendency of which the subject is utterly unaware. As 
an example of this we may take the man who has an 
unconscious tendency to domineer over other people. 
It is quite possible for him to be utterly oblivious of 
such a tendency. It is the existence of this type of 
phenomena that limits the usefulness and effectiveness 
of self-analysis. Instance after instance of the domineer- 
ing spirit may be provided to the man we are describing, 
but he will either fail to take note of them or explain 
them away by some agreeable, but unwitting subterfuge. 
This limitation of self-analysis, however, may be to some 
extent overcome by a knowledge of the tendencies that 
psycho-analysis has revealed in human nature generally. 
The second type of tendency which we would distinguish 



NATURE OF THE UNCONSCIOUS 59 

is that in which the subject feels impelled towards some 
end, but he has no clear idea of what the end is. In 
such a case there is usually a feeling of restlessness and 
dissatisfaction, which often enough ends in a man having 
a smoke, a drink, or indulging in some other form of 
" dissipation." Frequently the origin of this feeling 
cannot be accounted for. This brings us to the third 
type of tendency we would distinguish — the tendency 
of unknown origin. As an example of this we may cite 
the case which Dr. Rivers discusses at length in his 
" Instinct and the Unconscious." It is a case of 
claustrophobia— fear of enclosed places. The patient 
had a morbid dread of closed rooms, tunnels and dug- 
outs. But he could give no account for this. Analysis 
subsequently revealed that its origin lay in a forgotten 
incident of childhood, when the patient had been the 
victim of a trying experience in an underground 
passage. 

There are three types of tendency then which we must 
keep clearly in mind — the unknown tendency, the 
tendency with an unknown end, and the tendency of 
unknown origin. This classification is not strictly 
logical, being neither exhaustive nor exclusive, but it 
will serve to bring out the distinctions that are of 
practical importance. It is the third type that mainly 
concerns us. The criticisms of our social environment 
may enlighten us with regard to the first ; and personal 
reflection may go a long way towards the elucidation of 
the second ; but the question of the origin is hidden from 
our introspective gaze, and very frequently from the 
critical scrutiny of friend and foe alike. But the question 
is more obscure still. For very often when we are 
unaware of the real cause of a tendency we invent an 
explanation which may be personally but not 
psychologically satisfactory. To this process of invented 
explanation has been given the name of " rationaliza- 
tion." 



60 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 



2. RATIONALIZATION 



This term is applied to that mental process by 
which we substitute an explanation that is personally 
agreeable for the real one which is uncongenial. This 
substitution is not deliberate. It is the effect of the 
general tendency to avoid the unpleasant. The explana- 
tion is given in all sincerity and is regarded as adequate 
and true. But more careful examination reveals its 
inadequacy. 

In the last chapter the writer related a dream of his 
own. Up to a certain point the free associations were 
given in detail ; after that they were abbreviated and 
generalized, on the ground of limitation of space. But 
a little reflection revealed that the real reason was an 
unwillingness to divulge certain private, personal 
memories. Another instance may be given from recent 
personal history. A few months ago my baby boy 
showed signs of digestive disorders. As these continued 
for some time my wife and I discussed carefully all the 
changes that we could remember having taken place in 
his dietary about the time of the onset of the trouble. 
Finding nothing that could account for it we set it down 
to some change in the quality of the milk he was getting. 
But as the trouble showed no signs of improving the 
doctor was called in. He was unable to suggest the 
cause till just as he was about to leave it occurred to 
my wife to mention that she had been giving the child 
rusks to eat. At once it was suspected that he had been 
swallowing these without proper mastication, and subse- 
quent events amply proved this. But why did it not 
occur to either of us to mention the rusks when we were 
considering the details of his food ? The answer to 
that question, we both recognized, was that we were 
pleased to think that he was now able to eat solid food, 
and it was much easier to give him a rusk than to prepare 
his liquid refreshment. To a third person the explana- 



NATURE OF THE UNCONSCIOUS 61 

tion may seem patent and unavoidably obvious. But 
to quote the old proverb in a slightly altered form — 
there are none so blind as those who do not wish to see. 
If the reader examines his own recent history in the 
light of these remarks he will doubtless find abundant 
evidence of rationalization. The excuses we offer for 
our failings are often threadbare enough in the eyes of 
those to whom they are presented, though in our own 
they may appear respectable garments. To those who 
are prone to excuse-making psycho-analysis would 
suggest — apologize if necessary, but never make excuses. 
In all departments of human activity this rationalizing 
process may be seen at work, in religion, politics, 
commerce, medicine, and even in science. Jones gives 
an illustration from the sphere of medicine. Centuries 
ago, on the grounds of a mythical aetiology of hysteria 
certain drugs were prescribed for its treatment. These 
drugs are still used in various forms. " But the necessity 
of teachers of neurology to provide reasons to students 
for their treatment has led to the explanation being 
invented that the drugs act as ' anti-spasmodics ' — 
whatever that may mean/' 1 

Actors, ministers, teachers, surgeons, physicians, 
artists, poets, may all give their reasons for the vocations 
they have accepted. But these reasons will be very 
different from those crude primitive tendencies which 
psycho-analysis claims to be the motive power of their 
various activities. These tendencies are indignantly 
denied and wrathfully repudiated. They link up the 
finest and noblest achievements of human nature to 
its basest and most degraded forms. Whether psycho- 
analysis is right in doing this must be established by 
strictly impartial scientific enquiry. There is no need 
for hysterics. If the worst that has ever been " dis- 
covered " by this new method of inquiry is true, it is 
rather a ground for hope than for despair and disgust, 
for the virtues of the saint are but the sublimated 
1 " Papers on Psycho-analysis," p. 14. 



62 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 

passions whose perversion has produced the sinner. 
If the contentions of psycho-analysis are utterly wrong, 
if there are no such tendencies in human nature, then 
there is no need for alarm, for ideas are powerless, so 
modern psychology tells us, unless they are the expre- 
sion of tendencies. This does not mean that any Tom, 
Dick, or Harry should be allowed to exploit the method 
any more than he is allowed to trade in drugs or dyna- 
mite. The only argument against the prosecution of 
this inquiry that remains, is that it is better to " let 
sleeping dogs lie." But the answer is obvious. The 
dogs are by no means all asleep. The world is full of 
snarling destroying passions. And those that are asleep, 
how long will they sleep ? In short, our contention is 
this — if these tendencies do exist in human nature, it 
is better that we should know it that we may have at 
least a clear conception of the problem that we have to 
solve ; if they do not exist, then not all the psycho- 
analysts in the world can create them. These con- 
siderations do not prove that the contentions of 
psycho-analysis are right. They are not intended to do 
that. They are intended only as preliminary considera- 
tions which will enable us to bring to the subject a 
judgment that is as unbiased as possible. 



3. TENDENCIES. MODES OF ACTIVITY 

Before we inquire what is the nature of these repressed 
tendencies it will help us to get a clearer understanding 
of the problems we have to consider if we glance briefly 
at the part tendencies play in the phenomena of be- 
haviour. Everything we do or say or think is the 
outcome of the interaction of tendency with environment. 
The most fleeting fancy that finds a momentary lodg- 
ment in the mind is the product of such interaction. 
The environment is not passively accepted, nor does 
it mechanically determine the forms of mental activity, 



NATURE OF THE UNCONSCIOUS 63 

Particular features of the environment are selected for 
special attention, and particular relations are selected 
for special modification. This selection is determined 
by the psychical tendencies of the organism. 

But these tendencies or cravings or urges, as they are 
sometimes called, are not to be conceived as existing 
in isolation from the cognitive and affective processes 
of the mind. They constitute the dynamic factor in 
all psychical activity. By widening McDougall's 
definition of instinct to include acquired tendencies, 
and these having ideational or conceptual ends, 1 we 
obtain a conception of the phenomena which is psycho- 
logically satisfactory. A tendency is a psycho-physical 
disposition which determines, firstly, the direction of 
attention to specific kinds of situations, and, secondly, 
the nature of the affective and conational responses 
that are thereby evoked. In other words our interests 
determine the manner of our response to the world of 
things and thoughts in which we live. 

Tendencies may be classified as innate or acquired. 
The important point for us to bear in mind is that the 
latter are always modifications of the former. New 
interests do not suddenly appear from nowhere. If 
this were possible psychology would be impossible. 
It is true apparent exceptions to this rule are by no 
means uncommon. There are occasions when new 
impulses, and indeed new personalities, which seem to 
find no explanation in previous experience, do suddenly 
emerge. But we must give up all hope of explaining 

1 This use of the word " tendency " is, perhaps, wider than the 
usual. What we wish to emphasize is the conative element in 
all mental process. All our life is governed by an interaction 
with environment, determined partly by the nature of that 
environment and partly by the more or less specific and plastic 
types of conation with which the individual is endowed. In man 
there is an impulse to attempt to co-ordinate these tendencies. 
Graham Wallas calls it " Thought Instinct." It is this 
apparently that Freud refers to by the name of " Reality 
Principle." We may deny it the name of Instinct, we may 
prefer to call it reason, but we can hardly deny that it is a 
dynamic factor of consciousness. 



64 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 

such phenomena, if we do not believe that we shall 
ultimately be able to explain them as modifications of 
innate dispositions in the course of their interaction 
with a changing environment. 

The question now arises, In what respect is a tendency 
modifiable ? Fundamentally it cannot be altered. It 
may be strengthened by exercise, or weakened by lack 
of exercise. The occasion of its stimulation may vary 
as the result of experience. Take the case of a horse 
which shies at an old coat lying on the roadside. His 
master brings him back, and quietly but firmly insists 
on his facing the dreaded object, till at last he sniffs at 
it with curiosity and finally becomes indifferent. This 
does not mean that the fear-flight instinct is eradicated. 
The horse may still be afraid of steam-rollers, and no 
matter how well he is trained it will always be possible 
for some situation to occur which will stimulate this 
disposition. What actually happens is that objects 
acquire new affective meanings ; they stimulate a 
different tendency or combination of tendencies. It 
is most important that it should be clearly understood 
that a tendency does not discriminate. If it is stimu- 
lated at all it can only identify. Thus for the fear 
instinct of a nervous horse, an old coat lying by the side 
of the road, or a heap of stones, or a crouching beast 
are all one and the same thing. They have the same 
affective meaning. Their resemblances are perceived 
but their differences are ignored. This is what is meant 
by the process of identification, a process of the utmost 
importance because of the part it plays in primitive 
thought, both of the individual and of the race. " The 
tendencies of the primitive mind — as observed in 
children, in savages, in wit, in dreams, in insanity and 
other products of unconscious functioning — to identify 
different objects and fuse together different ideas, to 
note the resemblances and not the differences, is a 
universal and most characteristic feature, although only 
those familiar with the material in question will 



NATURE OF THE UNCONSCIOUS 65 

appreciate the colossal scale on which it is manifested. 
It impresses one as being one of the most fundamental 
and primordial attributes of the mind." 1 In its pure 
form it is manifested only on the level of pure instinctive 
activity. When learning by experience is introduced 
the factor of discrimination appears. This factor 
manifests its maximum of activity in the deliberate 
reflection of self consciousness. At the same time it is 
not strictly correct to say that identification is the 
perception of resemblance. It is rather the uniform and 
active response to the common element perceived in 
varying situations and objects. 

Identification is the basis of symbolism. But symbol 
formation only begins on the ideational level of con- 
sciousness. The coat lying on the roadside is not the 
symbol of a wild beast to the horse. Symbol formation 
involves the substitution of a relatively simple and 
agreeable object, activity or image for a relatively 
complex or disagreeable one. But that substitution 
is always determined by some underlying identity of 
response witting or unwitting. Thus a box can never 
be a symbol of the idea of liberty. The affective 
responses are incompatible. But the wind can be and 
is used as a symbol of freedom, while the colloquial 
expression, " to be in a box," is frequently used to 
express the idea of absence of freedom. This identity 
of response may be quite unrecognized. Thus every- 
body recognizes the sceptre as the symbol of power, 
but how many have recognized the underlying connection 
between the two ? This absence of recognition is 
considered by psycho-analysts to be the mark of true 
symbolism. Whether this restriction of the meaning 
of the term is legitimate may be questioned, but there 
can be no doubt that the distinction is an important one. 
Both in dream activity and in waking life it enables 
tendencies to find a satisfaction that would be denied 
if the real significance of the symbol were clearly 
1 Jones, op. cit., p. 147. 
5 



66 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 

understood. Interpreted in this sense the symbol is at 
once a means of expression and concealment just as the 
signs and passwords of freemasonry are a means of com- 
munication between the initiated, while outsiders are 
left in complete ignorance. This symbolic activity 
involves, therefore, the conflict of two tendencies or 
groups of tendencies, and is a kind of sublimation of 
energies of which the censor cannot approve. When it 
is carried to extremes it is an indication of extensive 
and deep-rooted conflicts that are exhausting psychic 
energy in useless strife. 

One of the most striking features of this activity is 
the similarity of its products in widely different times 
and places. This similarity has been explained by Jung 
as due to inheritance of archaic thought forms. But 
with Jones we feel that a more satisfactory explanation 
is to be found in regarding them as created afresh in each 
individual through the operation of similar tendencies. 
It is this uniformity that constitutes both the value and 
the temptation of the activity. If dreams could be 
reduced to the complication of universal symbols their 
interpretation would be a matter of relative simplicity. 
But even Freud admits that images that usually 
have a definite symbolic meaning may vary in their 
significance and on occasions must be taken at their 
face value. 

Restricting the use of the term, it is not surprising 
that psycho-analysts find in sex life the most fruitful 
field for the growth of symbols. Even those who would 
question the accuracy of many of the particular applica- 
tions of the theory would acknowledge this. Sex 
instincts are so strong, and at the same time the object 
of so much concealment that it is only to be expected 
that they should give rise to varied and extensive 
symbol formations. To convince us of this no extensive 
investigation into the realms of anthropology and 
philology is necessary ; a frank examination of every- 
day experience is sufficient. The results of such 



NATURE OF THE UNCONSCIOUS 67 

research would no doubt be a revelation to most people 
as to the extent and variety of this type of psychical 
activity. But while ready to accept such evidence and 
ready to grant the general truth of such contentions it 
is very probable that most people will object to the 
legitimacy of defining the symbol as an agreeable image 
substituted for an associated but disagreeable one. 
With this criticism we agree. The term covers the 
substitution of a relatively simple and concrete image 
for a relatively complex and abstract one. At the same 
time it cannot be too plainly emphasized that it is the 
former type of symbolism that is of especial value in 
the exploration of the hidden processes of the mind, 
and that we need to be on our guard against the strong 
tendency to explain every instance as an example of 
the second type. 

Then again while the symbol itself remains constant 
over considerable periods of the history of the individual 
or of the race, its affective meaning may vary to a very 
great extent. This development is a psychical fact 
that demands, we maintain, more consideration than 
orthodox Freudians are usually willing to grant. With- 
out taking this aspect of the question into consideration 
we are not in a position to estimate rightly the signifi- 
cance of the symbol either for the individual or the race. 
We are prepared to admit that the secret of the capacity 
of a given symbol powerfully to stimulate the mind lies 
in its appeal to one or other of the great primary instincts, 
but the stability of the symbol lies in its capacity to 
arouse the activity of an organized system of interests. 
And the question of primary importance is, What is 
the present significance of the symbol, what is the nature 
of the interests it evokes at the present moment ? If 
these are in harmony with the main interests of the 
individual or society then the question of origin is of 
very secondary importance. But if it lacks such 
harmony and therefore exerts upon the mind a tyran- 
nical influence, it may be desirable to lay bare its origin 



68 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 

and history in order to secure emancipation from its 
baneful effects. For instance, it may be possible to 
trace the ultimate origin of the Christian eucharist Or 
mass to some crude, primitive and barbaric custom. 
But the question of primary importance is, What is 
its significance for the individuals and communities 
that celebrate it to-day, what is the nature of the 
interests that it calls into play, and of the cravings that 
it claims to satisfy ? Are these interests in keeping 
with a harmonious development of the personality, and 
do they subserve a more effective and satisfactory 
adaptation to environment ? It must be borne in mind 
that what we are concerned to discover is not, the 
theories or theology by which the custom is justified, 
but the nature of the affective and conational processes 
involved. 

When a symbol fails to provide a means of such 
adaptation as we have described, it is really a symptom 
of some hidden conflict. Let us look for a moment at 
the case of a man who through contact with modern 
thought finds some symbol of his religious faith, some 
item of his creed or practice called in question. Suppose, 
for the sake of illustration, he is brought to realize that 
his belief in eternal punishment is really an indefensible 
gratification of an unrecognized cruelty tendency. 
What possibilities are open to such a man ? In the 
first place he may relinquish his old belief and leave the 
tendency unsatisfied. But if the tendency is strong 
this course will result in unbearable restlessness. In 
the second place he may seek a new symbol, perhaps in 
socialism, whereby he may gratify the tendency in a 
more legitimate manner by denouncing and exposing 
the wicked oppressions of the capitalist. In so far as 
this provides a more satisfactory adaptation it is an 
instance of sublimation. On the other hand the symbol 
may be conserved by a modified interpretation which 
calls into play a modified set of tendencies which do not 
conflict with his developed moral judgment. In this 



NATURE OF THE UNCONSCIOUS 69 

case the symbol is retained, but in an altered form. 
Lastly he may defy the criticisms of modern thought 
and cling to his old belief, probably affirming it with a 
greater vehemence than ever. In this case the symbol 
has become a symptom of mental conflict. Such an 
instance affords insight into the mechanism of the 
neurosis as Freud has explained it. It represents a 
regression from the attitude of independent reasoning 
to a relatively infantile attitude of unreasoning sub- 
mission to authority, and the fixation of interest upon a 
static symbol. Of this phenomena we shall have more 
to say later. Meanwhile we trust that sufficient has 
been said to show how important the subject is, if 
adequate insight is to be gained into the hidden and 
subtle working of the human mind. We have refrained 
from giving examples of the common symbols that 
occur in dreams because we believe the reader will be 
more satisfied if he discovers these for himself. But it 
must be clearly understood that this will involve taking 
the dream piece by piece, and image by image, and with 
great patience submitting each to a thorough process 
of " free association," carefully following the instruc- 
tions that were given in the last chapter. 



4. PLEASURE-PAIN PRINCIPLE AND REALITY PRINCIPLE 

In the last section we endeavoured to show how the 
process of identification in interaction with the endo- 
psychic censor produces the phenomena of symbolism. 
Identification is due to the stimulation of the same 
tendency by different " objects." But tendencies may 
not only be stimulated, they may also be satisfied or 
denied satisfaction. This brings us to the consideration 
of what Freud has called the Pleasure-Pain and Reality 
principles. As these terms have been usually defined 
it seems to the present writer that the former is open to 



70 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 

many of the criticisms that were passed on the pleasure- 
pain theories of the Utilitarians. But the distinction, 
while it was not discovered by the psycho-analytical 
school, has received at its hands something like its 
rightful position as a factor in mental development, and 
we feel it is not impossible to state it in terms that 
obviate the criticisms referred to. 

Primarily, a tendency is a psychic " structure " 
determining a mode of reaction. The successful 
functioning of a tendency is attended by a feeling of 
pleasure, while unsuccessful functioning is an occasion 
of pain. This affective experience normally subserves 
a more effective functioning of the disposition. " But 
the satisfaction, which attends the successful operation 
of an instinct, as pleasant, may itself become the object 
of ' desire.' In this case an ' acquired appetite on the 
ideational level can be formed in connexion with in- 
stinctive activity.' "* As an example of this Dr. 
Drever takes an illustration from school life. " The 
teacher who always tries to make school work interesting 
by effort on his part, to attract the pupils to attend by 
means of story, picture, and, in short, all the tricks of 
the ' show lesson,' not merely develops mental ' flabbi- 
ness ' in these pupils, but also develops the ' appetite ' 
for such lessons. Let us say the subject is geography. 
There is developed in the class an ' interest in geog- 
raphy,' but it is an ' interest disposition of the appetite 
order.' It fastens upon the pleasant amusing parts of 
the lesson, is impatient of everything not coming under 
these categories, and ends in a ' craving ' for mere 
amusement which becomes more and more fastidious 
and difficult to satisfy, and which is accompanied, 
on the intellectual side, by a greater and greater tendency 
towards passivity in the mere enjoyment of the ex- 
periences." 2 Such is the nature of the working of the 
pleasure-pain principle. 

1 Drever, " Instinct in Man." Cambridge, p. 254. 

2 p. 255. Op. cit. 



NATURE OF THE UNCONSCIOUS 71 

Freud is inclined to see in the reality principle a 
genetic development from this. For ourselves we 
should feel inclined to reverse the order of development. 
As a matter of fact all psychical activity, we believe, 
involves the three phases of cognition, conation and 
affective experience. We may start with a craving or 
tendency, but it is a craving for something however 
vaguely defined, and it is conditioned by a feeling of 
pain or pleasure. But the isolation of pleasure-pain 
as an end is the product of later experience, which is 
itself the outcome of a reality activity. But what 
Freud apparently understands by these terms, is that 
each tendency is concerned with its own satisfaction 
and is indifferent to the gratification of others (pleasure- 
pain principle) but it is necessary for the good of the 
whole that these tendencies should be co-ordinated and 
regulated to this end (reality principle). " The function 
of the latter," says Jones, "is to adapt the organism to 
the exigencies of reality, to subordinate the imperious 
demand for immediate gratification, and to replace this 
by a more distant but a more permanently satisfactory 
one. It is thus influenced by social, ethical, and other 
external considerations that are ignored by the earlier 
principle. It can, however, only guide and control 
the pleasure principle, adapting this to the environment ; 
it can never abrogate its activity." 1 On this statement 
interpreted in conjunction with the above exposition 
we have no adverse criticism to pass. Reality then 
includes both tendency and environment. Every 
conflict is the outcome of the clash of these two principles 
— the attempted gratification of one interest or set of 
interests at the expense of the rest, the turning away 
from reality in the quest for pleasure or the avoidance 
of pain. 

Another distinction of great importance which Freud 
makes, which depends on the satisfaction or non-satisfac- 
tion of tendency is that between primary and secondary 
1 Jones, op. cit., p. 3. 



72 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 

process. Jones has brought out this distinction very 
clearly. " The infant finds by experience that satis- 
faction of a given need — e.g., hunger — is associated with 
a certain perception — e.g., the sight of food. The 
recurrence of this need therefore brings with it the 
desire to reproduce the perception associated with 
satisfaction of it. It is probable that at first this may 
occur by regression of mental processes so that a hallu- 
cinatory perception is produced. Experience, however, 
soon teaches that this method is inadequate permanently 
to still the need, and that in their capacity in this 
respect there is an important difference between per- 
ceptions externally evoked and those internally evoked. 
Internal perceptions are adequate only when they are 
durable, as in the hallucinations of the psychoses. 
The psychical energy corresponding with the need 
therefore sets in action further groups of mental 
processes, the function of which is to modify the 
environment in such a way as to bring about 
an externally evoked perception of the kind 
desired : for instance the child cries until it is 
fed." The process concerned with imaginary gratifica- 
tion has been designated " primary " and that which is 
concerned with real gratification has been called 
" secondary." We doubt whether the terminology is 
entirely satisfactory, for the reasons stated above, but 
there can be no doubt as to the importance of the 
distinction. All too often the " psychic energies " are 
dissipated through the primary system in day-dreams 
and fancies when they should be working through the 
secondary system to procure more effective adaptation 
to the environment. When this tendency is carried 
too far there ensues one of those many forms of mental 
illnesses which are roughly distinguished in popular 
thought as " nervous breakdown " or " insanity." But 
in normal lives we can frequently find signs of this 
experience in worry, traces of hysteria, mild forms of 
compulsion and obsession. " Neuroses constitute, per- 



NATURE OF THE UNCONSCIOUS 73 

haps, the most widely spread form of disease. Persons 
quite unaffected in this way certainly comprise the 
minority of the general population. The high-frequency 
incidence of the neuroses is commonly under-estimated 
through a number of considerations being incorrectly 
appreciated. A large proportion of cases never reach 
medical inspection at all. Many patients with obses- 
sions for instance, do not regard their position as being 
strictly pathological and amenable to medical treatment, 
but struggle along as best they can, attributing their 
troubles to personal peculiarities. Others are too 
ashamed of the ridiculousness or of the unpleasant 
content of their obsessions to bring themselves to seek 
advice. Similar remarks apply to the numerous cases 
of sexual perversion and inversion (the latter condition 
alone is said to be present in two per cent of the popula- 
tion), of anaesthesia and impotency, and of criminality 
of a neurotic origin. Then should be borne in mind the 
tremendous frequency of drug habits and excessive 
drinking, the neurotic basis of which is now known. 
There is further the large number of people suffering 
from what may be called social maladjustment, consist- 
ing in inadaptability, inefficiency, incapacity to meet 
situations, abnormally intense fear of death or of poverty, 
hopelessness or even despair and so on ; it is now known 
that factors similar to those present in the neuroses are 
also in action in these cases. The appalling roll of 
yearly suicides — the least frequent outcome of such 
states of mind — should alone warn us against estimating 
too lightly these more social forms of neurosis." 1 We 
have taken the liberty of quoting at length these words 
of Dr. Ernest Jones in the hope that they may reach a 
different circle from that to which they were primarily 
addressed. We have quoted them for three reasons : 
In the first place, to show the extent and variety of the 
effects of the breakdown of the reality-principle, in the 

1 Jones, " Treatment of the Neuroses." Bailliere, Tindall and 
Cox, 1920. 



74 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 

second, to strike a blow at the tendency to regard such 
cases as shirkers, slackers, or even criminals, or on the 
other hand to regard them with a helpless and demoraliz- 
ing pity ; and finally, to encourage such sufferers to 
seek relief along sound scientific lines of insight into the 
mental mechanisms which underlie their troubles. In 
the more severe and long-standing cases competent 
advice should be sought, but in those milder forms 
from which few of us are free, patient and courage- 
ous effort to understand the hidden mind processes 
will result in a more effective adaptation to the demands 
of life. 



5. CONFLICT OF TENDENCIES 

From the foregoing it will be realized how important 
it is that we should discover, if possible, the factors 
that are at work in bringing about the failure of adapta- 
tion. These are to be found, according to psycho- 
analysis, in the conflicts, and especially the hidden 
conflicts of the mind. Hitherto we have spoken of 
tendencies very largely as if they operated in entire 
independence of one another, and it is true that each 
tendency is concerned only with its own satisfaction. 
But in its quest for an object a given tendency may 
light on one which, at the same time stimulates another 
tendency, possibly an opposing one. For instance, 
curiosity and repulsion may both be stimulated by 
one and the same thing. What is the result ? One of 
the interests may apparently triumph, and the other be 
defeated. But the issue is not the same as if the defeated 
impulse had never been aroused. The object becomes 
all the more repulsive because of the repressed fascina- 
tion, or all the more compelling because of the latent 
activity of the apparently defeated disgust. The 
result is, that there is a more or less permanent " fixa- 



NATURE OF THE UNCONSCIOUS 75 

tion " of interest on the object. This is what is known 
as a complex, a term which figures very prominently in 
psycho-analytical literature. A complex is the fixation 
of interest on some object through the operation of a 
counter interest. Such fixation, because of its painful 
character, is usually more or less repressed and, indeed, 
may be so completely repressed as to be inaccessible to 
ordinary processes of self-conscious introspection. But 
the issues of the conflict may not be nearly so simple as 
this. The relative strengths of the opposing interests may 
be so nearly matched that the outcome is a compromise or 
compromise formation as it is usually called. Symbols, 
interpreted in the narrower sense indicated above, are 
instances of this phenomenon. So also are the symptoms 
of the neurotic. If we take the two tendencies just 
mentioned, the mind may turn away from the object in 
sheer disgust, but the curiosity compels it to find some 
other object resembling the original one in some respect, 
but without the strongly repulsive features. A miser's 
interest in gold is a commonly cited example of such a 
compromise formation. The sovereign of pre-war 
days inspired in most people a feeling which the pound 
note of to-day is quite incapable of awakening. Its 
value in the world market was only a rationalization, 
for that value was not a matter of vital concern to the 
average individual in those days. Healey in " Mis- 
conduct and Mental Conflicts," gives a number of cases 
of kleptomania in children, which a mental analysis 
revealed to be simply a compromise formation, of 
which the underlying conflict was predominantly 
sexual. 

On the other hand if a tendency runs counter to that 
organized system of tendencies known as the " social 
self " it may be converted into its direct opposite. In 
this case we have what is called a "reaction formation." 
A hypersensitiveness to cruelty may be a reaction 
formation to the tendency towards cruelty. The 
converted drunkard usually affords us another example 



76 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 

of this process, indeed religious conversions are 
often just an extensive system of such reaction forma- 
tions. 

These formations, both compromise and reaction may 
have real social value, but the danger, even in such cases, 
is that they may exercise a tyrannical and obsessional 
influence to the detriment of other interests. 

But the most important consequence of conflict is 
dissociation, whereby interests and groups of interests 
are repressed and rendered inaccessible to conscious 
control, with the result that we often do things without 
knowing the real reason for our action, or we act under 
a sense of inexorable necessity, or we stand helpless 
before a task that is well within the compass of our 
powers, although we may be ignorant of these facts 
because of the activity of the rationalizing tendency. 
It is the business of psycho-analysis, by means of free 
association, to lay bare the hidden roots of these psychical 
growths that the tree of life may be freed from their 
parasitic depredations. 

And now before we come to the consideration of the 
nature of the tendencies which are involved in these 
conflicts, let us briefly consider a question which may 
possibly have arisen in the mind of the reader, especially 
if he is acquainted with ordinary psycho-analytical 
literature. Much has been said about tendencies, 
impulses and interests, but very little about affects, 
feelings and emotions. In answer to this we would say 
first of all, that these terms are frequently used in a 
way that the ordinary psychologist cannot approve. 
And in the second place, that while we recognize that 
the conative aspect cannot be isolated from the affective, 
yet we regard the latter rather as giving colour and 
warmth to life, while it is in the former that we find the 
dynamic of its movement. It is the function of the 
artist to reproduce the colour and warmth as well as 
the movement ; it is the chief business of the scientist 
to explain the movement. The essential thing is the 



NATURE OF THE UNCONSCIOUS 77 

tendency. In emphasizing this, while we have departed 
somewhat from the lines of orthodox exposition, we have 
been true, we believe, to the guiding ideas which Freud 
has stressed in the reality principle, and emphasized 
still more strongly in the claim that the therapeutic 
aim of psycho-analysis is the "overcoming of resist- 
ance." 



6. INSTINCTIVE TENDENCIES 

We have seen that all behaviour is determined by 
tendencies, and that the tendencies of mature life are 
simply modifications of those that belong to earlier days. 
In spite of apparent exceptions we must work on this 
principle if we are ever to achieve understanding of the 
problem of human behaviour. Tendencies are not 
suddenly thrust upon us from the outside. The question 
then, we must consider, is, What are the tendencies with 
which we are born ? What are those innate psycho- 
physical dispositions which determine the direction of 
attention and the response of the organism ? These are 
the instincts as defined by McDougall. The question 
resolves itself then into an enquiry into the nature of 
the instinct tendencies. 1 

Freud has classified these as belonging to two main 
groups — Ego and Sex Tendencies. Some thinkers 
prefer a threefold classification, distinguishing a third 
group under the name of Herd Instincts. The bio- 
logical function of these groups of impulses is to be 
found in the preservation of the individual, of the race, 

1 It is only possible to consider this most important question 
in a very brief fashion. The reader who is concerned to give the 
matter fuller consideration may be advised to read McDougall's 
" Introduction to Social Psychology," Drever's " Instinct in 
Man," River's " Instinct and the Unconscious," Tansley's " New 
Psychology and Life," and Trotter's " Herd Instinct in Peace 
and War." 



78 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 

and of society respectively. From this point of view 
we are inclined to recognize the separation of the herd 
instincts as desirable, and with Trotter to regard these 
as a most important source of repressing activity. 
With this writer we are inclined to agree further that 
while psycho-analysts have given a great deal of atten- 
tion to the repressed tendencies, not sufficient considera- 
tion has been given to the nature of the repressing 
dynamic. It is true that these are usually more acces- 
sible in the nature of the case, since they are not 
repressed, to introspection. But the repression may 
take place upon what we may call the instinctive level 
of consciousness, and its true nature thus escape our 
observation. The practical importance of this may be 
seen in such a case as that already cited of one of Jung's 
patients (p. 54). 

But while we recognize the value of such a classifica- 
tion we are convinced that a simple enumeration of the 
instincts such as that given by Dr. McDougall and the 
rather fuller one given by Dr. Drever is preferable. An 
examination of Tansley's attempt to bring these into the 
categories of the threefold classification confirms this 
preference. 1 McDougall's list of the instinct tendencies 
is as follows : Flight, Pugnacity, Repulsion, Curiosity, 
Self-assertion, Self-abasement, Parental Instinct, Repro- 
duction (sex), Feeding, Gregariousness, Acquisition, 
Construction. " Taking the list, then, without criticism, 
and at its face value, we find that the instincts of self- 
assertion and self-abasement form the basis of the 
ego-complex, and the instinct of gregariousness that of 
the herd complex, while the instinct of reproduction 
and parental instinct lie at the root of the sex complex. 
Of the remaining seven " simple instincts " all are con- 
cerned in the first place with man's relation to his 
material environment, and at the same time are so 
intimately connected with the ego that they may almost 

1 See " New Psychology," Chap. XVII. The Primitive 

Instincts. 



NATURE OF THE UNCONSCIOUS 79 

be said to form part of the structure of the ego-complex/' 1 
He remarks further that these instincts " constantly 
interact and modify one another." But we would 
point out that many, if not all, of the instincts which 
he regards as forming the " ego-complex," are so 
frequently employed in the service of the sex and herd 
complexes that the classification loses much of its value. 
Take for instance, curiosity. This tendency is so 
frequently sexually determined that Freud apparently 
regards it as primarily and fundamentally sexual, and 
that its non-sexual manifestations are sublimations of, 
or reactions from, its original nature. And this is true 
to a greater or less extent of practically all the other 
instincts of the ego-complex, even of the two which are 
regarded as its main determinants — the self-assertion 
and self-abasement tendencies. McDougall himself has 
argued that what Freud calls Sadism and Masochism are 
self-assertion and self-abasement sexually conditioned. 2 
The critical question is, Are these tendencies primarily 
directed towards ends that can rightly be considered as 
sexual or to ends that are truly non-sexual ? A similar 
problem arises, though perhaps not to the same extent, 
in connexion with the herd instinct. For this reason we 
prefer to follow the method of McDougall rather than 
to adopt either of the more general classifications. The 
only satisfactory method of settling the issue between 
Freud and his opponents is to begin with definitely 
recognized tendencies and carefully trace their history 
and manifestations both in normal and abnormal minds. 
But a preliminary difficulty lies in the way — the con- 
notation of the term sexual. As is well known Freud 
uses this term to cover phenomena which were previously 
considered as non-sexual. 

1 Op. cit., p. 181. Tansley uses the term " complex " in a wider 
sense than the one in which we have used it. For him, it is " a 
system of associated mental elements, the stimulation of any one 
of which tends to call the rest into consciousness through the 
medium of their common effect." 

2 See " Social Psychology," p. 396, Footnote. 



80 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 

We have now reached the storm centre of psycho- 
analysis — the role of sex in human behaviour. There 
is an increasing recognition of the mental mechanisms 
that we have endeavoured to describe in the previous 
chapter, but Freud's conception of sex and the part it 
plays in the determination of behaviour has proved a 
" rock of offence " to great numbers. To describe 
anything as sexual is for many minds synonymous with 
calling it " unclean " or " base." Probably this 
difficulty will never be utterly overcome because of the 
close physiological association of the sexual organs with 
those of excretion. The demand of scientific enquiry 
for an impartial and detached attitude finds here its 
most difficult problem. It must contend with two 
opposing impulses, the one of a morbid curiosity which 
battens on the unpleasant, and the other of a loathing 
revulsion. The way in which Freud's theories have 
been received constitutes one of the most powerful 
pieces of evidence as to their substantial truth. It 
has also been urged against his theories that they are 
based upon a one-sided examination of abnormal cases. 
But in other departments of the biological sciences the 
value of pathological study is universally recognized. 
While we do not wish to give the impression that we 
regard this question as finally settled, still less that we 
regard the sexual as playing a principal part in every 
mental conflict, we are bound to admit that the evidence 
seems to us overwhelming as to the importance of this 
tendency, and we are prepared to find, because of its 
biological importance, because of ordinary observation 
of ordinary life, and finally and chiefly, because of the 
very constitution of the mind, that it is a factor of 
greater or less significance in every mental reaction. 
There is no need to emphasize the biological value. 
The whole race owes its existence to this impulse. It 
would be natural therefore, to expect a correlative 
psychological importance. With regard to the last 
point, we need only say that the conception of psychical 



NATURE OF THE UNCONSCIOUS 81 

activity which we have endeavoured to expound in 
these pages necessarily involves this result. Every 
" moment " of consciousness is a synthesis of all the 
preceding moments in a new integration with the present 
" situation." There may be dissociation, but the 
dissociation is never complete. The existence of a 
repressed complex implies some degree of activity. In 
other words we react to every situation with the whole 
self, though possibly not with a perfectly united self, 
and that self is a sexually conditioned self. The second 
consideration we have only mentioned, because this 
book is addressed primarily to the general reader rather 
than to the purely scientific one. In this connexion 
it needs only to be pointed out that a man can never 
entirely forget that he is a man, or a woman that she is 
a woman. We react to members of the opposite sex 
in a perceptibly different way from the members of our 
own. Probably the most detached professor that ever 
addressed a class cannot regard his male and female 
students with quite the same feelings, and even if he 
did it would still be a fact of profound sexual signifi- 
cance. But there is no need to labour the point. It is 
obvious. 

But difference of opinion may arise as to the degree 
of the influence of this factor. The study of " War 
Neuroses," mental disorders due to the abnormal strain 
of modern warfare, has led many to the conclusion that 
sex plays a far less important part in the production of 
various types of mental disorganization than Freud 
maintains. Here, at any rate, it is claimed that the 
factor of outstanding significance is the repression of 
the " fear-flight " instinct. The instinctive reaction in 
the presence of danger is to run away or hide. If this 
tendency is thwarted or repressed, there comes a state 
of strain which may be so intense as to cause anxiety 
neurosis, or some form of hysterical anaesthesia or 
paralysis or convulsive action, or possibly of mental 
collapse. The therapeutic methods that were based on 
6 



82 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 

this conception by men like Myers, Brown, Rivers, and 
MacCurdy were attended with such satisfactory results 
that we are bound to acknowledge that the theory has 
real worth. In fact there can be no doubt that the 
continued repression of any strong instinctive tendency 
must gravely affect the manner of adaptation to reality. 
But the question arises, Is this repression sufficient to 
account for the mental disorganization that is to be 
found in such cases as we are now considering ? We 
do not presume to be competent to decide when authori- 
ties differ, but there are one or two considerations that 
are worth noting even by those of us who are not directly 
interested in the problems that the war neuroses 
present. Dr. Rivers has shown that these fall into two 
classes, anxiety and hysteria, and that the first class 
consisted mainly of officers while the second included 
chiefly men of the rank and file. The reason for this 
he finds chiefly in the nature of the training to which 
these two sections of the army were submitted, and in 
the very different degrees of responsibility that devolved 
upon them. In the case of officers, initiative and enter- 
prise were stimulated, while in the rank and file submis- 
sion to authority was the guiding principle. Now the 
symptoms of the nervous trouble in both cases resemble 
a regression to an infantile state, a characteristic which 
has been shown to be a mark of all other neuroses. 
There is no need to regard this statement as reflecting 
in a derogatory manner on those who have suffered 
from this distressing trouble. It is the way we all 
react to situations that impose too great a tax upon our 
strength and resources. We have a picture of the 
hysterical mode of reaction in the child who is ordered 
by his mother to take a pill. He tries and fails not 
because the pill is too large, but because he involuntarily 
inhibits the action of the swallowing muscles. He may 
make no effort to swallow, asserting that it is impossible. 
In such a case we have a kind of temporary psychic 
paralysis. Or on the other hand, to demonstrate the 



NATURE OF THE UNCONSCIOUS 83 

reality of his goodwill he may make repeated and 
strenuous but ineffectual efforts to comply. Analysis 
of such cases reveals that such actions are really an 
unconscious attempt to perform some action in the doing 
of which the individual has previously failed. It is as 
though he were trying to demonstrate to his superiors 
(the parent substitute) that he is trying his utmost, but 
that the thing is utterly beyond his powers. In the 
case of anxiety we have a different picture. When a 
child is in difficulty he turns for help and guidance to 
his parents. If for any reason, for instance, lack of 
sympathy or fear of revealing his weakness, he is unable 
to do this, there ensues a state of anxiety. Now as we 
shall see presently, Freud regards this parent relation- 
ship as a normal feature of sexual development. If 
such an interpretation is correct, we see that the repres- 
sion of the danger instincts is only a match set to the 
fuel. Keeping to this metaphor we may use it to 
explain Freud's theory of nervous disorders. Every 
mental conflagration is due to three factors : the nature 
of the fuel (congenital endowment), the way it is pre- 
pared (sexual history) and the kindling flame (current 
conflict produced by the repression of some impulse, 
not necessarily sexual). It is obvious that nothing can 
be done for the patient in respect of his native endow- 
ment. It may be possible by certain methods to 
extinguish the fire, but if nothing else is done it is 
obvious that the fire may soon break out afresh. The 
only satisfactory way is to arrange the materials that 
they may not so readily take fire from every flying 
spark. This means that the history of the individual 
must be reconstructed. In one sense this is obviously 
impossible, but in so far as that history stands for a 
fixation of interest on childish objects it is possible to a 
very great extent. To the degree that psycho-analysis 
has been able to achieve this it has fulfilled the old 
prophecy, — I will restore unto you the years that the 
locust hath eaten. 



84 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 

We must now consider the nature and development of 
the tendencies which are comprised under the activity 
of the sex instinct. We shall endeavour as simply and 
briefly as possible to explain Freud's ideas, not laying 
them down as final and incontrovertible, but as a body 
of doctrine for which there is a tremendous, and ever- 
increasing amount of evidence. Many refuse to accept 
that evidence because they do not find it confirmed by 
an examination of those mental processes which are open 
to ordinary introspection. Such criticism is entirely 
beside the point, since the evidence referred to is not 
derived from such an examination of superficial con- 
sciousness. There are three ways in which Freud may 
be shown to be wrong, if he is wrong. Either it must 
be demonstrated that free association is not a reliable 
method of enquiry, or that the method has been wrongly 
used, or that the results of its application are wrongly 
or imperfectly stated by psycho-analysts. With the 
first objection we have already briefly dealt in the last 
chapter. With regard to the other two, it remains 
only to say that those who have given the method a 
thorough and impartial examination are substantially 
agreed as to the results, though like Jung they may seek 
to explain them as symbolic. For ourselves, we believe 
that the right attitude is the open mind, taking each 
case on its merits, examining it with scientific detach- 
ment, bearing in mind the undoubted fact of resistance, 
and that the overcoming of one resistance complex does 
not preclude the possibility of further and even deeper 
resistances. Further it must be borne in mind that 
resistance is not a monopoly of the patient, the analyst 
himself has his own complexes and it is, therefore, 
regarded as desirable that he should himself submit to 
analytical examination. 

The main difficulty of Freud's theory is that, as far 
as we have been able to discover, he nowhere lays down 
any clear criterion of sexual activity. He does not, of 
course, restrict it to the mere function of reproduction, 



NATURE OF THE UNCONSCIOUS 85 

or even to an interest in the organs that are directly 
involved in such activity. Both its object and its aim 
are subject to considerable variation. In this respect 
he has certainly not departed from the common usage 
of the word. Everybody recognizes the lover's caress, 
or the treasuring of a handkerchief or a lock of hair, as 
due to the activity of sexual interest. But Freud 
traces this interest at work in phenomena where it has 
not generally been recognized, especially in its infantile 
forms. 

The first stage of this interest is called the auto- 
erotic. The new-born child is concerned almost entirely 
with its own bodily feelings, hunger, warmth, internal 
discomforts of various kinds. At first these are but 
vaguely differentiated, if differentiated at all. The 
external world scarcely exists as far as it is concerned. 
But gradually the interests are more clearly defined. 
It obviously obtains satisfaction by sucking its nourish- 
ment, and a sense of pleasurable relief through the 
processes of excretion, and another source of gratifica- 
tion, which we must distinguish from the first, in sucking 
its fist or some other part of its body. In these two 
latter tendencies Freud finds the origin of sexual 
interests. Later these interests are more or less success- 
fully drained off into other channels, that is, they are 
sublimated. But the point for us to keep in mind is, 
that the object of earliest sex interest is the self. 

The second stage is reached when the interest is turned 
to external objects. And the objects of most profound 
emotional significance to the child are soon discovered 
to be the mother and father, and especially the former. 
This relation, even for the young child, is exceedingly 
complex. No doubt the part the parents play in the 
provision of nourishment is an important factor, but 
probably far more important is the emotional atmos- 
phere with which they surround the child, and to deny 
that these emotions are very largely sex-determined is 
to deny that there is any essential psychical differences 



86 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 

between motherhood and fatherhood. And very early 
the child reveals a different mode of response to these 
parental variations. It is a matter of common observa- 
tion that generally speaking there is a marked preference 
on the part of boys for the mother and, on the part of 
the girls, though perhaps not to the same extent, for 
the father. This difference of response is very much 
obscured by the complexity of the factors of the relation- 
ship. But psycho-analysis claims that it is a natural 
and extremely important stage in the development of 
sex interest. In the case of the boy, the mother is the 
object of a tender regard which is not extended to the 
father, while the latter is regarded with feelings of 
hostility and jealousy. Later on these feelings are 
repressed or sublimated and therefore forgotten. When 
they are repressed they form what is called the (Edipus 
complex, from the Greek legend according to which 
(Edipus, by a cruel fate, becomes the unwitting destroyer 
of his father and marries his mother. This complex, 
it is claimed, is one of the most important factors in the 
production of the neuroses. It is easy to see how such 
tendencies may be over-stimulated by sentimental 
indulgence on the part of the mother and stern repression 
on the part of the father. The emancipation from the 
parent relationship is rarely complete. Again and 
again the mode of a man's response to his environment 
is determined to a very large extent by this factor. 
For instance he identifies himself with his father, and 
acts as his father would in such a situation, or he 
identifies some third person with his father, and reacts 
to him as though he were his father, or again when 
things go wrong he may turn to some one for comfort 
and help as he turned to his mother in his childhood 
days. As an illustration of the part that the relation 
to parents plays in the production of nervous disorders 
we will quote a particularly interesting case which is 
given by Dr. Ernest Jones. 

It was the case of "an unmarried American lady of 



NATURE OF THE UNCONSCIOUS 87 

twenty-six. She was the eldest daughter and had 
always been passionately devoted to her mother, 
regularly taking her side in parental quarrels. Since the 
age of fourteen she had been obsessed by the fear that 
her mother, who for many years had suffered from 
chronic heart disease, might die. She had never left 
home until, at the age of twenty, she went to an educa- 
tional centre some two hundred miles away. Here she 
reproached herself for having left her mother, whom 
she had always tended. 

" One evening, shortly after receiving a rather bad 
report of her mother's health, there was a college debate, 
and the side she defended had to wear as a sign of their 
partisanship a small red cloth shield. That night she 
dreamed that she saw her mother's bedroom very dis- 
tinctly. It resembled the actual room in every detail, 
except that on the wall opposite the bed was pinned a 
red shield, and that her mother was lying dead. She 
woke in horror, and on the next day she travelled home 
by the first train. Here she found her mother ill in 
bed, but apparently in no greater danger than usual. 
Her first act, and surely an extraordinary one, was to 
pin on to the wall opposite the bed the little red shield. 
She rationalized this action as being intended to give 
her mother the opportunity of looking at an interesting 
memento. She slept with her mother, and on the 
second morning she woke to find her dead beside her. 
The shock of this she had never got over ; she tortured 
herself with remorse that in some mysterious way she 
was responsible for her mother's death, she felt herself 
always haunted by her spirit, and was totally unable to 
undertake any occupation whatever, even five years 
after. She suffered from a phobia of red, and had never 
been able to revisit her home." 

The analysis revealed that "at a very early age the 
patient had been greatly in love with her father, and 
had indulged in fantasies in which she saw herself sup- 
planting her mother in various circumstances. About 



88 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 

this time, a disliked aunt, who lived with them, died, 
and the idea occurred to the patient that if a similar 
calamity were to happen to her invalid mother the loss 
would have its compensations in other directions. The 
wish here implied was strongly repressed, but lived on 
in the unconscious, where its activity was manifest 
only in the reaction formation of the patient's 
excessive devotion to her mother and steadily in- 
creasing indifference, or rather antipathy, towards 
her father ; a pronounced homosexual tendency aided 
this process." 1 

This case provides us with an example of the way the 
parent relation works, and at the same time illustrates 
other mechanisms which we have discussed in the 
earlier sections of this chapter. 

The third stage in the development of sex interests is 
that in which it is directed mainly to members of the 
same sex. Ordinary observation reveals that at a rather 
vaguely defined point in the history of the child, with the 
opening up of the wider world outside of the family, 
there is manifested a special interest in the members of 
the child's own sex, with an aloofness from the opposite 
sex and a marked tendency to under-rate its worth. 
There arises a certain amount of spontaneous sex 
segregation, when boys find their playmates among 
boys, and girls amongst girls. This stage, while 
probably not of such profound importance as the 
previous one, if not outgrown, has a great effect on 
subsequent development, and if not sublimated, leads 
to serious mental conflicts, and possibly to gross 
perversions. 

The fourth stage is that of puberty, which is marked 
by important physical changes, and generally by a 
period of great mental stress, in which the previous 
development plays a tremendous part. In the normal 
case, this experience results in an emancipation from 
family bonds and the direction of interest towards 
1 Ernest Jones, " Papers on Psycho-Analysis," p. 225. 



NATURE OF THE UNCONSCIOUS 89 

members of the opposite sex, and finally in the choice 
of a marriage partner. 

All the way along, these stages are conditioned, and 
probably primarily determined by, an interest in the 
bodily organs, in certain physiological activities, and 
especially in the great mystery of human origins. This 
development is obscured by repression, and by sub- 
limation in which the energies are absorbed in non-sexual 
activities. 

Side by side with this development of the object of 
the sexual interest, there is a development of a sexual 
aim. In the early stages this is relatively vague and 
diffuse, and apparently far removed from its ultimate 
goal of the procreative act. Sucking, touching, and 
seeing certain parts of the body are the main forms of 
activity. At first the sexual organs have no pre- 
dominant attraction. 

There are two pairs of correlative tendencies which 
must be specially noticed, the desire to see and to be 
seen, and the desire to inflict pain and to suffer pain. 
To these tendencies have been given the names, Observa- 
tionism, Exhibitionism, Sadism, and Masochism re- 
spectively. Here again, in the normal case, these 
phenomena are obscured by the same agencies of 
repression and sublimation. It is an obvious fact that 
the very young child has no sense of shame, that he has a 
positive delight in nakedness, a tendency which most 
adult people regard as rather delightful than otherwise, 
if it is outgrown at the right stage. The curiosity that 
underlies observationism is not so generally approved, 
and possibly for that very reason not so generally 
recognized. Still less are the cruelty and suffering 
impulses approved, and probably most readers will 
find some difficulty in admitting that they are part of 
our natural and original endowment. Memories of 
the recent war, however, should be sufficient to show 
that we have not altogether outgrown these tendencies. 
Nor should we be right in regarding our late enemies as 



90 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 

possessing a monopoly of this pleasure in inflicting pain. 
Doubtless the militaristic spirit had fostered it to a 
greater degree among them, but we may be sure that 
war cannot be waged without a release of the sadistic 
impulses. The war again affords us an insight into 
the close connexion of this tendency with the sex 
impulse as it is more strictly interpreted. Rape and 
rapine are twins. The soldier is ever ready to turn lover 
as the increase in the marriage rate during the war 
years bears witness, to say nothing of the other facts 
which most people seem only too anxious to ignore. 
But there is another side to war. There is suffering as 
well as fighting, and we may be sure that if men and 
women could find no satisfaction in suffering, the recent 
war would have come to an end long before it did, for 
it was above all a war of endurance. It scarcely needs 
to be pointed out that as a rule, the masochistic tendency 
is stronger in women than in men, while the reverse is 
true of the sadistic impulse. Still, both exist in differing 
proportions in both sexes. Further, it requires little 
insight to realize that these interests, sublimated by 
the inspiration of a noble cause, provide the dynamic 
of those characters and careers which have aroused the 
world's highest and most desirable admiration. 

Such in briefest outline are the main principles of 
Freud's theory of sex. If we compare these impulses 
with the instincts enumerated by McDougall we shall 
see that there is a close connexion. There are obviously 
close affinities between Freud's conception of observa- 
tionism, exhibitionism, sadism, and masochism, and 
McDougall's conception of curiosity, self-assertion or 
self-display, pugnacity and self-abasement respectively. 
The difference between the two is apparently that 
Freud regards these impulses as primarily and funda- 
mentally sexual, only becoming partially de-sexualized 
in the course of the history of the individual. McDougall, 
on the other hand, regards them as primarily non-sexual, 
but as capable of being sexually determined. For 



NATURE OF THE UNCONSCIOUS 91 

ourselves, we are inclined to think that the truth lies 
somewhere between the two. In the newly born child 
there is no clear distinction between the ego tendencies 
and the sex tendencies, as Freud calls them. It is only 
in the course of its history that these become increasingly 
more clearly defined. But that the strictly called sex 
interest does emerge even in normal cases much earlier 
than McDougall seems prepared to admit, appears to 
us undeniable from such evidence as is available. But 
as to the question of the extent to which these tendencies, 
for instance, curiosity, are sexually determined, we do 
not feel at all competent to say, but at the same time 
we are bound to admit, that the evidence points very 
forcibly to the idea that they derive a great part, if not 
all their dynamic from that interest, and that they are 
so closely intertwined with it, that in the absence of wise 
education they are very liable to be subordinated to it. 
We must now consider the role that Freud assigns 
to the sexual instinct in the production of mental 
disorders. The important factor to remember in this 
connexion is, that the development of the interest in 
respect of its object, and the sublimation of its aim, 
rarely proceed with perfect smoothness and complete- 
ness. This development may be attended with varying 
degrees of failure. This failure may not become clearly 
apparent till the demands of adult life reveal the defect. 
The development has been arrested or partially arrested, 
and the interest more or less fixed on one or other of 
the relatively primitive objects, the self, the parents, 
or the same sex, with the result that the normal objects 
of adult life are unable to arouse sufficient interest or 
energy, or they provoke a conflict which involves varying 
degrees of mental disorganization. Freud does not 
regard the conflict of non-sexual impulses as capable of 
producing a neurosis. All they can do is to bring about 
a regression to a primitive fixation, and it is this fixation 
which is the specific cause. The late Dr. J. J. Putnam, 
a man equally respected for his profound learning and 



92 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 

high character, has said, Freud, " has worked out, with 
incredible penetration, the part which this instinct 
(sex) plays in every phase of human life, and in the 
development of human character, and has been able 
to establish on a firm footing the remarkable thesis that 
psycho-neurotic illnesses never occur with a perfectly 
normal sexual life. Other sorts of emotions contribute 
to the result, but some abnormality of the sexual life 
is always present, as the cause of especially insistent 
emotions and repressions." Even Jung, who endeavours 
to explain the neurosis by means of the two factors of 
congenital disposition and current conflict, and suggests 
that the psycho-analytical theory should be liberated 
from the purely sexual standpoint, says later on in the 
same book — " I am often asked why it is just the erotic 
conflict, rather than any other, which is the cause of 
the neurosis. There is but one answer to this. No one 
asserts that this ought necessarily to be the case, but 
as a simple matter of fact, it is always found to be so, 
notwithstanding all the cousins and aunts, godparents 
and teachers, who rage against it." 

We have seen that psycho-analysts attach great 
importance to the activity of the CEdipus complex, 
which brings about in the adult a regression to the 
childish attitude to the parents. Recent developments 
of the work have emphasized the importance of an even 
more primitive regression, to the self-love stage. To 
this regression is given the name of Narcissism. In this 
case the interest is withdrawn from external objects 
and fixed upon the self as it is, as it was, or as it would 
like to be, or a part of the self (e.g. its child). It is easy 
to see how such a conception may be used to explain 
such phenomena as conceitedness, wounded pride, a 
self-centred and visionary idealism, or an extravagant 
infatuation with one's offspring. Possibly psychology 
itself may be regarded as the product of sublimated 
narcissism. This may account for the contempt and 
even suspicion with which it is regarded by the 



NATURE OF THE UNCONSCIOUS 93 

" practical man." This factor, it is claimed, is of very 
great importance in bringing about those serious forms 
of mental illness known as melancholia and dementia 
praecox, and constitutes a serious obstacle to remedial 
efforts by making transference, which we shall shortly 
see is a necessary stage in the treatment, very difficult 
if not quite impossible. 

In the foregoing account we have avoided the use of 
a term which figures largely in psycho-analytical 
literature. It is the term Libido. Freud uses this term 
to stand for sexual desire in all its forms. Jung uses 
it in a wider sense as equivalent to Bergson's " life 
force." We have avoided the use of the term altogether, 
for the simple reason that we do not see the necessity 
for it, and because it is frequently used in what we 
regard as an unpsychological manner. 

When we turn to the non-sexual instincts we find 
a regrettable blank in psycho-analytical theory. If 
we grant that it is the sexual tendencies which are the 
object of most of the repression that goes on in the 
human mind, we have still to enquire what is the nature 
of the repressing forces. Trotter in his " Herd Instincts 
in Peace and War," has especially drawn attention to 
this omission, and his treatment of the subject, though 
all too brief, is suggestive. Freud recognizes only two 
classes of instincts, the Egoistic and the Sexual. What 
he includes in the former is not very clear. But all 
conflict is due to the clash of elements of these two 
groups. But there is a sense in which all tendencies 
may be regarded as ego tendencies. They all work 
towards some end which, if achieved, normally brings 
a feeling of pleasurable satisfaction, or at least of 
pleasurable relief. Maternal love is as ego-centric in 
its satisfaction as the desire for food. But the satis- 
faction of the maternal impulse involves the considera- 
tion of the well-being of another, while the strictly ego 
tendencies require no such reference. If this external 
reference is accepted as the distinguishing feature 



94 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 

between the altruistic and the egoistic tendencies, we shall 
see that the sex impulses described above are partly 
altruistic and partly egoistic, while it is obvious that the 
herd instincts must always involve this external 
reference. 

Let us consider very briefly the nature of the herd or 
gregarious instinct. The outstanding feature is Sug- 
gestibility in its widest sense, involving all three phases 
of psychical process, cognitive, affective and conative. 
Using the term in this manner, Dr. Rivers has defined 
suggestion as " that aspect of the gregarious instinct 
whereby the mind of one member of a group of animals 
or human beings acts upon another or others unwittingly 
to produce in both or all a common content, or a content 
so similar that both or all act with complete harmony 
towards some common end." The fundamental aspect 
of this unwitting action of mind upon mind is the 
affective, what McDougall calls sympathy. In the 
hypnotic state it is usually called rapport. It is an 
emotional responsiveness or sensitiveness to the feelings 
of some other mind or minds. Starting from this point 
Ferenczci and Jones have argued that suggestibility 
is essentially sexual. A considerable amount of 
evidence has been adduced to support this contention. 
There are two recognized types of suggestion, the one 
working through authority and fear, while the other 
works through persuasion and " love," and it is claimed 
that these are determined by the different emotional 
responses of the child to father and mother respectively. 
Herd suggestibility may be regarded as a development 
of this, but if it is, it must be through a process of 
de-sexualization. The main interests of the herd are 
food and protection, and it is obviously necessary for 
individual interests, including the sexual, to be sub- 
ordinated to these, or the herd would perish. When 
we come to the human herd the situation becomes more 
complicated. The sexual impulses are subjected to 
stringent regulation, and these regulations are not merely 



NATURE OF THE UNCONSCIOUS 95 

imposed upon the individual, but by virtue of the latter's 
suggestibility they are accepted. If the acceptance is 
complete then the individual interests are directed into 
socially satisfactory channels, but if the acceptance 
is incomplete, there arises internal conflict and repres- 
sion. It is important to remember that external pressure 
is never sufficient alone to bring about repression ; there 
must always be some degree of acceptance, whereby 
the judgment of the community is accepted as right or 
true, that is, the social judgment is introjected, to use 
the technical term, and the individual makes it his own. 
If the opposing tendency persists it is regarded as wrong, 
and the individual strives to suppress it. This conflict 
may take place on the personal level of consciousness 
or on the subpersonal ; in the latter case the individual 
has no true idea of what is going on, and is therefore 
unable to deal with it satisfactorily. It is possible, of 
course, for the suggestion to be rejected. In this event 
the conflict is external, and gives rise to no repression. 

The situation is still further complicated by the 
various partial herds to which civilized man belongs, 
such as the family, the workshop, the trade union, 
the club, the church, the nation. The suggestions 
coming from these different sources may give rise to 
conflict, and the adjustment of these various sugges- 
tions give rise to the conception of an absolute standard 
such as God, conscience or reason. 1 

This sketch of the herd instincts is admittedly all too 
brief and inadequate. Trotter's contention that it is 
the main source of the repressing activity seems 
undeniable, and we can only hope that psycho-analysts 
may give it the same thorough examination that they 
have devoted to the sexual impulses. It forms the 
chief part of that wider question of the nature of the 
reality to which it is the aim of the analyst to reconcile 
the neurotic. Jones has said that the neuroses are the 

1 It is not intended to imply that such conflicts are themselves 
entirely adequate to explain these ideas. 



96 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 

result of a conflict between the individual and society. 
The therapeutic aim is to reconcile the two. But to 
what society is the individual to be reconciled ? Is it 
to society as it is, permeated we are told by neuroticism ? 
Obviously this is a tremendous question, but we cannot 
consider that psycho-analysis rests on a secure founda- 
tion till it can provide a satisfactory answer to this 
problem. 

In conclusion, we would say, that, while we do 
not consider the problem of the primary instinctive 
tendencies as definitely settled, we believe that the most 
satisfactory conception is to regard such mechanisms 
as McDougall enumerates, as being gradually differen- 
tiated from a relatively homogeneous life impulse, 
primarily in the interests of the ego, but very early in 
the interests of sex, and later in the interests of the 
herd. With the exception of what Dr. Drever calls 
the appetite tendencies, such as hunger, thirst, and sex 
in the narrower sense of the term, these instinctive 
mechanisms are probably all capable of being con- 
ditioned by these three main interests. But the sex 
interest is of special significance, not only because of its 
native strength, but also because through repression, it 
accumulates still greater stores of energy, and is frequently 
compelled to find its satisfaction in most devious ways. 



CHAPTER V 

THE CONTROL OF THE UNCONSCIOUS 

IN the last chapter we have endeavoured to 
explain the nature and modes of activity of those 
mental tendencies and conflicts, which function- 
ing outside the range and reach of ordinary personal 
consciousness, have such important consequences for 
the individual, being the specific cause, it is claimed, 
of those forms of mental illness, known as the " psycho- 
neuroses," and of many of those minor disabilities and 
maladjustments, from which few of us, if any, are 
entirely free. If this claim is true, it will be obvious 
that there is little prospect of our being able to control 
these tendencies, or to end these conflicts by a direct 
effort of will power. We are fighting against unseen, 
or disguised foes, and more than this, we are fighting 
with greatly depleted forces, for our foes are " those of 
our own household." We cannot emphasize this point 
too strongly. The symptoms of the neurotic, the 
tremors, the paralyses, the compulsive actions and many 
of the pains, are what Freud calls " wish-fulfilments," 
by which the individual is enabled to escape from the 
too-exacting demands of life. This is the reason which 
explains the resemblance of the neurotic to the 
malingerer with whom he has been so often confused. 
He is a malingerer, but a malingerer against his will. 
To treat him asa" slacker," a coward, or a hypocrite, 
is only to aggravate his troubles, but on the other hand, 
to treat him with large doses of well-meant compassion 
is no better. Nor is it sufficient to tell him that his 
7 97 



98 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 

symptoms are but devices of the unconscious to enable 
him to get out of the " firing line " of life's battle. He 
probably would not believe it, and if he did, it would 
only add to his already intolerable burden. Blame, 
pity, and exhortation are at the best of little use, and in 
some cases may do serious harm. The first requirement 
is insight, not only on the part of the physician, but also 
on the part of the patient. For this reason the co- 
operation of the latter is far more important than in the 
treatment of physical ailments. Without it no progress 
can be made. A keen desire to get well is therefore a 
great help to the treatment, indeed a practically indis- 
pensable pre-requisite. Patience, courage and intelli- 
gence are necessary for successful results. Psycho- 
analysis is not a pill that has just to be swallowed to 
cure all manner of diseases, but it is a highly 
individualistic method which is dependent upon the 
tracing out of those complicated and often hidden 
tendencies which are the spring of so many of our 
activities. It is obvious, therefore, that it will require 
a very considerable amount of time, but that time is 
more than redeemed, when the treatment is successful, 
by the elimination of those conflicts which are the cause 
of so much wasted energy and ineffective striving. 
Let us inquire now more closely as to the main lines 
which this treatment follows. It works by means of 
free association, through psycho-catharsis and abreac- 
tion, through transference and the overcoming of 
resistance to freedom which is its aim. The meaning 
of these terms we shall now endeavour to make clear. 



I. PSYCHO-CATHARSIS AND ABRE ACTION 

The material on which the analyst works in the 
patient's dreams, because they provide the easiest and 
most direct access to the unconscious. But if these are 



CONTROL OF THE UNCONSCIOUS 99 

not available he may begin with the patient's symptoms 
or use Jung's Word Association Method described in 
Chapter II. This material is interpreted by the aid of 
free association which we have already described. 
Here we need only repeat the warnings as to the neces- 
sity for complete mental and muscular relaxation, for 
the utter abandonment of every effort to guide or restrain 
the direction of consciousness, and for complete frank- 
ness in recording whatever comes into the mind, no 
matter how trivial, irrelevant, or unseemly it may 
appear. Hypnosis is sometimes used to aid and abridge 
the process, or to recall forgotten experiences, but 
Freud abandoned its use on the ground that instead 
of lessening the resistances, after a certain stage it 
increased them. 

It is the aim of free association to bring to light those 
forgotten experiences or fantasies which are the 
repressed factor in the mental conflict. To this process 
is given the name psycho-catharsis . Now the significant 
fact about these forgotten experiences is not the 
experiences themselves but the tendencies which they 
reveal, tendencies of which the patient is either utterly 
ignorant, or which he has misinterpreted because they 
have been deflected by compromise or reaction forma- 
tions. This process of psycho-catharsis is obviously 
necessary, therefore, if the individual is to exercise 
control over these hidden impulses, he cannot be 
expected to control forces of which he is unaware or 
does not understand. 

But there is another aspect of the question which we 
must consider. Whenever a tendency is stimulated, 
an emotional experience peculiar to it is also aroused. 
If the tendency is denied its satisfaction then the 
emotion is also checked in its development. If, for 
instance the instinct to run away from danger is aroused 
but prevented from finding its natural expression, then 
the accompanying emotion of fear is also checked, or to 
use an expressive colloquialism, is " bottled up." 



100 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 

When such an experience is recalled, the recall is 
attended by a revival of the emotion and if this is allowed 
unfettered expression it is frequently followed by a 
sense of relief. This process, commonly termed " letting 
off steam " is perfectly familiar. It is only when the 
original conflict is so intense as to involve some con- 
siderable degree of amnesia that it is regarded as 
pathological. In such a case free association or hyp- 
nosis is necessary to recall the experience, and the 
revival of the emotions is known as abreaction. The 
value of abreaction as a therapeutic method has come 
to the fore in connexion with the treatment of war 
shock. Dr. W. Brown, of London University, lays 
great emphasis on its importance. His opinion deserves 
to be treated with the greatest respect both on account 
of the extent and the success of his work at an advanced 
Neurological Centre in France. He says, " In most 
cases of nervous shock caused by shell explosion a state 
of intense fear is aroused in the patient's mind, which, 
from its very magnitude, produces loss of self-control 
and apparent loss of consciousness. There is no real 
loss of consciousness, but the attempted repression, and 
control of the fearful emotion at its inception brings 
about a splitting of the mind, which appears later as 
amnesia of greater or less extent, often involving other 
losses of function also, such as dumbness, deafness, 
tremulousness, or paralysis. The fact that under light 
hypnosis, and with the appropriate suggestions, these 
memories return, together with the lost voice, hearing, 
etc., is evidence that they were not abolished at the 
time, but were simply split off from the main personality. 
It is also evidence that the shock worked mentally 
rather than by its accompanying physical concussion 
(which is often absent). In my method, then, the 
patient goes through his original terrifying experiences 
again, his memories recurring with hallucinatory 
vividness. It is this that brings about the return of 
his powers of speech, and not direct suggestion, as in the 



CONTROL OF THE UNCONSCIOUS 101 

ordinary method. My second modification of the 
ordinary method is in my manner of awakening the 
patient. Remembering that his disability is due to a 
form of dissociation, and that in some cases hypnotism 
accentuates this dissociation, I always suggest at the 
end of the hypnotic sleep that he will remember clearly 
all that has happened to him in this sleep. More than 
this, I wake him very gradually, talking to him all 
the time and getting him to answer, passing backwards 
and forwards from the events of his sleep to the events 
in the ward, the personalities of the sister, orderly, 
doctor and patients, i.e. all the time re-associating 
or re-synthetizing the train of his memories and 
interests." 1 

It will be seen from this account that Dr. Brown's 
method involved not only recall of the forgotten 
experience by the aid of hypnosis, and the working off 
of pent-up emotion, but also the re-synthesis of the 
dissociated and therefore forgotten experience. In a 
symposium which appeared in the Medical Section of 
the " British Journal of Psychology," in October, 1920, 
the question of the value of abreaction is introduced 
by Dr. Brown, but Dr. C. S. Myers, who was Consulting 
Psychologist to the British Expeditionary Force, after 
acknowledging the high value of the former's work, 
takes up the position that it is the recall and especially 
the re-synthesis that are the important factors and not 
the abreaction. He supports this contention from his 
own experience and method in which he discouraged 
any strong emotional expression. " My own experi- 
ence," he says, " in recovering memories both in the 
waking and in the hypnotic states was that the acting 
out of the emotional experience was of relatively little 
consequence, but that what was of importance was the 
revival of the unpleasant memory of the scene. Dr. 
McDougall in his contribution to the same symposium 

1 W. Brown, " Psychology and Psycho-therapy." 1921, 
Edward Arnold. 



1 02 PSYCHO-ANALYSTS 

criticizes the conception of " pent-up emotion " and 
regards the re-synthesis as the all-important factor. 
He points out that war-shock patients not infrequently 
suffer from fits in which they live through the old 
experiences with realistic intensity and are no better, 
but rather worse as a consequence. To these criticisms 
Dr. Brown replies that he recognizes the importance of 
re-synthesis but asserts that he found that those cases 
that were marked by the most vigorous abreaction made 
most satisfactory progress. It is not easy to form a 
reliable judgment where authorities of such eminence 
and experience are at variance, but the discussion points 
strongly to this conclusion that while abreaction may 
possibly be helpful, it is not essential, but what all are 
agreed is essential is the recall and re-synthesis of 
dissociated experiences. This conception of the 
therapeutic value of abreaction is confirmed by the 
most recent developments of psycho-analysis in the 
treatment of ordinary neuroses. Freud, in his early 
work with Breuer, as we have seen, regarded emotional 
revival as an important factor, but in his later work 
he places the emphasis on transference and the over- 
coming of resistance. These conceptions we must now 
examine. 



2. TRANSFERENCE AND OVERCOMING OF RESISTANCE 

The reader will have noticed that in the special 
modification of psycho-analytical treatment for war- 
shock cases, hypnosis was extensively used. It is true 
that it was used by Myers and Brown mainly for the 
purpose of recalling forgotten experiences and not with 
the view of effecting a cure by means of suggestion. 
But it has been maintained that in spite of this the real 
secret of the therapeutic value of the method lay in 
unconscious suggestion. Freud very early abandoned 



CONTROL OF THE UNCONSCIOUS 103 

hypnotism as being more of a hindrance than a help, 
but the same explanation of the success of his method 
has been advanced on the ground that the state of free 
association is identical with the state of relaxation 
which is the necessary pre-requisite of effective waking 
suggestion. Freud explicitly recognizes that these 
two states are practically identical, but he denies that 
cures are due to suggestion. In the first place, the 
analyst plays as far as possible a passive role in the 
examination. He refrains from offering suggestions 
by word or sign, and on no account offers advice. But 
it is replied that in the highly suggestible state of free 
association, the patient is susceptible to indications of 
thought and feelings, which in the normal state would 
pass unnoticed. This is admitted, but it is still con- 
tended that analysis works not by means of suggestion, 
but in spite of it. 

We must examine this contention more closely. The 
first requirement of effective suggestion whether waking 
or hypnotic, is, as we have said, the production of a 
certain affective state in the individual, called sug- 
gestibility. This is brought about by various devices, 
but the aim of one and all, is to secure a suspension of 
the activity of the endopsychic censor. This suspen- 
sion varies in its degrees but it is probably never quite 
complete, unless it is in the deepest hypnotic trance. 
This state induces a special and exclusive susceptibility 
to, and dependence upon, the person making the 
suggestions. This personal relation is called rapport. 
It is inspired, on the one hand, either by fear of, or 
respect for the hypnotist, because of his authority or 
power, or on the other, by the feeling of trust or affec- 
tion, because of his kindly interest or gentle manner. 
In either case there is a marked dependence of the 
patient on the physician. Psycho-analysts regard this 
feeling of dependence as an extension of, or rather 
transference of, the childish feelings with which father 
or mother were regarded respectively. Now it is obvious 



104 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 

that if it is true, that many, if not most, nervous dis- 
orders are caused by the failure of the effort of self- 
emancipation from this childish relationship, then by 
inducing the state of suggestibility and rapport, we are 
only aggravating the evil we are trying to overcome. 
To suggest that the patient shall show a more indepen- 
dent spirit only results in a reaction formation, which is 
manifested in a self-assertiveness, with marked childish 
characteristics. This transference occurs no less in 
psycho-analysis than in suggestion. The patient lives 
over again his emotional life and the physician becomes 
the object of his love and hate. 1 But in analysis it is 
only a stage, though a necessary one, in the course of the 
treatment. It constitutes at once, both the difficulty 
and the hope of the physician. On this point Jones 
quotes the very significant words of Freud. "It is 
undeniable that in his endeavour to emerge victorious 
over the transference phenomenon the psycho-analyst 
is faced with the greatest difficulties, but it should 
not be forgotten that it is just these difficulties that 
render us the invaluable service of making the patient's 
buried and forgotten love-excitations current and 
manifest, for in the last resort no one can be vanquished 
in absentia or in effigie." Transference, then, is really a 
reconstitution of the childish situation which lies at 
the root of the nervous trouble, but instead of the 
father, mother, self, or whatever form the original love 
object assumed, the same interest is now directed on 
the physician. The value of this is, as Freud points out, 
that it is an actual situation that has to be dealt with, 
and not merely an imagined or remembered one. 

But if the patient were left at this stage little good 
would have been done. It would be like curing the pain 
in one tooth by transferring the discomfort to another. 
But by means of the free association the patient is 

1 The difference between abreaction and transference is that 
the former is a revival of past experiences while the latter is 
a revival of emotional attitudes towards a new object. 



CONTROL OF THE UNCONSCIOUS 105 

brought to see for himself what is the real nature and 
origin of that interest which is being directed upon the 
analyst. It is not enough to tell the patient what is 
the nature of the mental trouble from which he is 
suffering. He would almost certainly refuse to accept 
the explanation, and if he accepted it the acceptance 
would be superficial and of little practical value. The 
reason for this should be clear from the previous 
chapter. It is not merely that the neurotic is suffering 
from wrong ideas. He is suffering because of the clash 
of active forces, because of the arrestment of the normal 
development of that complex of interests, called sexual 
in the broadest sense of the term, an arrestment which 
is due to the action of some opposing system of interests. 
The object of desire is repugnant to the social and moral 
self and it is therefore repressed. The very idea of it 
is banished. It is therefore only to be expected that the 
path of enlightenment by means of free association will 
be obstructed at every turn. This obstruction is called 
resistance and it is the vanquishing of that resistance 
which is the ultimate aim of the treatment. To this 
end the individual must be brought to feel the full force 
of that resistance. No advice is offered with a view to 
relieving the tension, but at a suitable moment the 
patient is shown that his difficulties in association are 
due to resistance and not due to the mere fading of 
memory. After this, says Freud, " We must allow the 
patient time to immerse himself in this resistance (of 
which he is now conscious), to work through it and over- 
come it — by carrying on the work according to the 
psycho-analytical rule in spite of it. Only when they 
have reached the point of most intense resistance do 
patient and doctor through their combined work 
discover the repressed tendencies which are feeding the 
resistances — tendencies as regards the existence of which 
the patient would otherwise have failed to be convinced. 
In this the physician can do nothing but await the 
completion of the process — a process that cannot be 



106 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 

avoided and that cannot always be hurried." The 
psycho-analytic rule referred to, in this passage, is that 
which insists on the passive role of the analyst, and the 
refusal of aid, direction or advice to the patient during 
the course of his free associations. If this principle is 
strictly adhered to, then the very recall of the ex- 
periences, fancies and desires involves the gradual 
breaking down of the resistances, otherwise the recall 
would be impossible. What then, is the position at 
this stage ? Repression has been removed, and the 
patient realizes that his trouble is due to certain repug- 
nant tendencies. But those tendencies are still there, 
and they are still repugnant. But he has one clear 
gain. He knows now what are the forces he is fighting 
against. He is no longer righting in the dark against a 
foe, which the darkness not only veils but magnifies. 
But this is not all. Since the repression has been 
removed the fixation of the interest has been relieved, and 
the energies which have been wasted in internal conflict 
or forced into unsatisfactory channels, are now free to 
be directed towards the external problems and diffi- 
culties of life. The tension has been relieved, and the 
sexual interests, if not entirely, at any rate to a very 
considerable extent, are free to be directed to non-sexual 
ends, that is, they can be sublimated. The task of sub- 
limation must be tackled by the patient himself. To 
turn to the analyst for help and advice would only be to 
relapse into the position of servile dependence from which 
he has just been emancipated. But he can face the task 
with confidence because he faces it now with undivided 
forces. 

One other point we must notice in connexion with 
this treatment. It has been assumed that because 
repression is the cause of nervous trouble, that it is the 
sole task of the analyst to remove that repression and 
the one concern of the individual to give rein to his 
natural impulses. This is a gross and unjust caricature 
of the method and has been repeatedly repudiated by 



CONTROL OF THE UNCONSCIOUS 107 

the most eminent authorities. Psycho-analysis affords 
no sanction for so-called " free living." The individual 
is freed from his conflicts that he may direct his desires 
towards a more satisfactory social adaptation. 



3. AUTO- ANALYSIS 

The main purpose of this book is to enable the general 
reader to obtain such insight into the hidden processes 
of the mind that he may be able to exercise more 
effective control over his life. But we would repeat 
the warning we have already given. Persons suffering 
from morbid dread, morbid introspectiveness, or any 
form of hysterical instability should not attempt to cure 
themselves by self- analysis. Competent medical and 
psychological advice should be sought in such cases. 
But there are a vast number of minor disabilities that 
may be removed, or at least mitigated by self-examina- 
tion in the light of the principles we have been expound- 
ing. We have called these disabilities " minor " 
because they do not entirely incapacitate the sufferer 
from taking his place and responsibilities in life, but they 
nevertheless are attended by very painful and crippling 
effects. As instances of such disabilities, we may 
mention, lack of independence, or its opposite, unwilling- 
ness to be advised, undue hesitation and vacillation, 
thoughtless impetuosity, obstinacy, procrastination, 
undue sensitiveness to the opinion of others, undue 
fear, reticence or self-disparagement, compulsions and 
obsessions of the less severe type, etc., etc. It is not 
satisfactory to dismiss these things as mere habit, or 
think we have said the final word when we have ascribed 
them to heredity. Heredity is probably as often an 
excuse as it is a cause. With regard to habit its 
strength is commonly regarded as due to frequent 
repetition, but a little reflection will show that this 
is only partially true. For instance, a bank clerk who 



108 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 

has worn the same type of collar for twenty years, may 
not find it a very great difficulty to substitute another 
style, but he simply dare not go to the office without a 
collar of some kind. The fact is that it is not merely 
the frequency of repetition that determines the strength 
of a habit, but the strength of the tendency which 
underlies it. In self- analysis, therefore, we must be on 
our guard against superficial explanations. It is not 
sufficient to explain our omission to do a certain thing 
by saying, " We forgot." We must ask " Why did we 
forget ? " And to this question it is not sufficient to 
reply that we did not pay enough attention at the 
time that the engagement was made, or that we were 
overwhelmed with business when the time for keeping 
it arrived. We must go deeper still. Why did we not 
attend ? Why did we manage to remember a dozen 
other things, of more trifling importance in spite of the 
demands that were being made upon us ? And the 
answer is always that we were either not sufficiently 
interested, or there was something within us that made 
us want to forget. It is interesting, too, to note how we 
are inclined to exploit our physical weakness to excuse 
our mental and moral deficiences. A " splitting head- 
ache " is a common complaint of the student who is 
faced with an examination for which he feels himself 
but ill-prepared. Medical science is only now beginning 
to realize how varied and extensive is the mental factor 
in the production of physical ailments. In his " Mental 
Hygiene," Dr. W. A. White says, " The number and 
duration of physical and apparently physical disorders 
which may originate at the psychological level is endless. 
It includes many forms of asthma, sore throat, difficult 
nasal breathing, stammering, headache, neurasthenia, 
backache, tender spine, ' weak heart,' faint attacks, 
exopthalmic goitre, aphonia, spasmodic sneezing, 
hiccough, rapid respiration, hay fever, gastro-intestinal 
disturbances (constipation, diarrhoea, indigestion, colitis, 
(ulcer of stomach), ptosis of kidney, diabetes, distur- 



CONTROL OF THE UNCONSCIOUS 109 

bances of urination (polyuria, incontinence, precipitancy) 
menstrual disorders, auto-intoxication (from long con- 
tinued digestive disturbance), nutritional disorders of 
skin, teeth, and hair, etc., etc." Indeed, we may say, 
that there is no illness in which the mind does not play 
some part. We all recognize that the " spirit " of the 
patient is an important factor in his recovery, but what 
we do not always realize is that, the patient may 
sincerely desire to be well, but at the same time may have 
unconscious tendencies to cling to his illness, perhaps 
because he enjoys the special attention he gains by it, 
or because it enables him to evade some difficult demand 
that life is just at that time making upon him. And 
what is true with regard to illness, is true with regard to 
all our life problems. We shall make little progress 
in analysis if we do not remember that at one and the 
same moment it is possible for us to face a given problem 
in two contradictory ways. We may imagine that we 
are doing our utmost, but all the time secret fears and 
hidden desires, may be dividing our strength. In fact 
we may be sure that any task which requires constant 
renewal of resolution is not receiving our undivided 
attention. We may tell ourselves that we are doing 
our best, and we may be perfectly sincere in this self- 
assurance, but the fact is that we are not doing the 
best we are capable of. It is not till the task absorbs 
us by its own compelling interest till everything else is 
forgotten that it is calling out our real best. It often 
happens that such an interest is elicited subsequently 
when by an effort of will we take up an uncongenial 
piece of work. On the other hand the constant whip- 
ping up of ourselves frequently makes the business all 
the more disagreeable. In such a case the only way to 
succeed is to eliminate the secret fears and the hidden, 
alien interests that distract and divide. 

But doubtless the reader has long been thinking that 
all this introspection and analysis tends only to further 
division and weakness. The horrible fate of Hamlet 



110 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 

looms before his eyes as a terrible spectre and warning. 
We do not claim that introspection has no dangers. 
Persons of a brooding disposition, or unstable emotions, 
will be wise to avoid it unless under the guidance of a 
skilled analyst. In any case, we may expect the 
immediate result of self-examination will be a lowering 
of capacity. We may compare a person beginning 
such a course to a man who having learnt golf unaided 
and being dissatisfied with his progress turns to an 
expert for instruction. The immediate effect is an 
apparent deterioration in his play. The effort to 
remember how he shall hold his head and his club and 
what he is to do with his feet, makes him forget to keep 
his eye on the ball. But if he perseveres in following 
the instructions the result is usually a vast improvement 
in his play. In the same way, " the remedy " says 
Tansley, " for the evils brought upon man by his 
increased self-consciousness is, then, to increase it still 
further, but always in the light of objective knowledge. 
He must try to know himself, not by applying catch- 
words and cant phrases to the forces at work within — 
a habit which leads to the confusion of things which 
are essentially different and the separation of other 
things which are essentially the same — but by a patient 
study of the mind as it actually is, and of the conditions 
under which it works, of the real meaning of his thoughts 
and conduct." There are two rules which the self- 
analyst should bear in mind, and if these are obeyed he 
need not fear the ultimate effects of introspection. 
The first is — let your introspection be progressive. Do 
not " stew " continually over your faults and failings, 
but find their causes. The second rule is — see that 
thought leads to action. In the early stages there 
should be no hurry about this, but if it does not 
eventually lead to a stronger, calmer and more effective 
attitude to the problems of life, it is because some 
tendency or group of tendencies has evaded discovery, 
or the introspection is being used for an excuse for 



CONTROL OF THE UNCONSCIOUS 111 

postponing the unpleasant task of facing reality. There 
is need for watchfulness, for the unconscious is fertile 
with excuse and evasion. There is a tremendous amount 
of psycho-analytic truth in the words of the book of 
Genesis : " Now the serpent was more subtil than any 
beast of the field which the Lord God had made/' There 
will be no need for any exposition of this truth if it is 
remembered that the serpent is perhaps the commonest 
sexual symbol. 

We do not think it would be wise, even if it were 
possible, to attempt a thorough-going self-analysis, but 
we will now attempt to sketch out a scheme which 
should be possible and helpful to the reader who has 
really grasped the principles we have been expound- 
ing. 

First of all examine and interpret carefully and 
patiently a few of your own dreams. This should serve 
a double purpose. In the first place it should bring to 
light certain tendencies which are not obtaining full 
satisfaction in the waking life, and in the second place 
it will enable you to understand more fully the ingenious 
ways in which the unconscious seeks to obtain such 
satisfaction. If these tendencies are such that you 
cannot arrange your lives so that they can obtain their 
real and natural satisfaction, either because of the 
circumstances in which you are placed, or because they 
are repugnant to your moral sense, then you must find 
some other way of dealing with them. Repression is 
never entirely satisfactory, but we do not say that it is 
not sometimes necessary and successful, but it can never 
be better than the less of two evils. It always involves 
a loss of psychic energy. It is far better, if possible to 
sublimate these tendencies by directing them towards 
satisfactory objects. But it must not be imagined that 
any tendency can be " switched off " from one object 
to any other. The new object is a substitute for the old 
one, and must stand in some " felt " relationship to it, 
though that relationship need not be clearly realized. 



112 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 

The problem of sublimation is, therefore, a personal one. 
It must be solved by the individual concerned. But 
we may point out that ordinary sexual desire can at 
any rate be partially sublimated towards the interests 
of religion, social service, literature, art, science, 
business enterprises, etc. The essential thing is, that 
these new interests shall be creative, progressive and 
absorbing. The second thing, and most important thing 
to do is, to discover what is the general nature of your 
attitude towards life. Is it cautious and timid ? Is it 
rebellious or rash or cynical ? Are you lacking in 
independence ? Are you too reserved and inclined to 
" chew the cud " of your own grievances ? What 
is your attitude to the opposite sex, is it hostile or 
scornful or painfully bashful ? Do you love the 
" limelight " ? Are you goaded by curiosity ? Do 
you take a delight in reading about or seeing brutal 
displays, or are you unduly sensitive to anything that 
savours of cruelty, or are you inclined to pose as a martyr, 
the victim of an unjust fate ? It must be remembered 
that in asking such questions there is always a strong 
tendency to justify the attitude by attributing it 
entirely to the nature of the " facts " of life, and to 
refuse to admit that it is the way we regard the "facts " 
that is of supreme importance. Then having decided this 
question with care, the next thing is to ask, what are 
the factors that are determining this attitude ? Re- 
viewing your life patiently and carefully inquire whether 
there has been any partial fixation of interest on the 
self, on the parents or on your own sex. Has there 
been any failure in the effort to sublimate the sex 
aims enumerated in the last chapter — exhibitionism, 
curiosity, sadism and masochism ? It is not enough 
to review the life history in a brief half-hour. You 
must come back to it again and again, immerse yourself 
in it and live it over again. Brain racking and puzzling 
should be avoided. Searching and striving are not 
of much use. Rather let the pageant of your life come 



CONTROL OF THE UNCONSCIOUS 113 

up before you and lead you where it will. But pay 
special attention to the question of family relationships. 
Such an examination if patiently and faithfully carried 
out should reveal the dynamic energies underlying your 
life's activity and the conflicting tendencies which 
waste power and render so many efforts futile. 

Another useful, as well as interesting exercise, 
especially for those who have very scanty dream 
material to draw from, is to take some habit, some 
forgotten engagement, or some mistake such as will be 
described in the next chapter, and subject it to analysis 
to find the hidden tendency or unconscious wish which 
underlies it. 

Having thus laid bare the impulses and conflicts of 
which your life's activity is the outcome, the task 
remains to formulate some life plan in which they 
may find harmonious development. 

Such a procedure as we have here outlined obviously 
departs to some extent from the strict psycho-analytical 
method, and cannot be expected to yield such striking 
results as are obtained with the skilled guidance of an 
experienced analyst. For this reason we believe it is 
desirable to supplement auto-analysis by auto-sugges- 
tion. 



4. AUTO-SUGGESTION 

Hypnotic suggestion has been rejected by the 
orthodox psycho-analyst, as being more of a hindrance 
than a help in his work. Hypnotism, he asserts, 
increases the deeper resistances, it does nothing to 
remove the undesirable state of dependence of the 
patient on the physician, its therapeutic effects are 
frequently as ephemeral as they are dramatic, it works 
in the dark, treating symptoms rather than causes. 
But the new Nancy School of Auto-suggestion, founded 
by Coue, whose methods have been expounded so ably 

8 



114 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 

by Baudouin 1 , avoids all these objections, save the last. 
There is no dependence on a second person since the 
suggestions are made by the patient himself, and since 
they can be renewed at pleasure, there is no need for 
the effects to be temporary. It is true, however, that 
this method works, like its forerunners, in the dark. 
It leaves the " subconscious " to deal with the causes, of 
which consciousness may be entirely ignorant. Further, 
suggestions arising from the self will necessarily be 
conditioned by the blindness and prejudices of that 
self. But if the self-examination advised in the last 
section has been carefully carried out these objections 
will very largely be obviated. 

It is only possible here to outline the barest essential 
principles of this method. The reader who is interested 
is strongly advised to read Baudbuin's book, " Sugges- 
tion and Auto-suggestion," for himself. It is full of a 
wealth of illustration and detailed guidance which will 
prove invaluable to anyone who wishes to take advan- 
tage of this method. The foundation principle is the 
law of Reversed Effort. " The harder we try to think 
the good idea, the more violent will be the assaults of 
the bad idea." " Voluntary effort essentially pre- 
supposes the idea of a resistance to be overcome." To 
put the idea in Coue's own picturesque formula, " When 
the will and the imagination are at war, the imagination 
invariably gains the day. In the conflict between the 
will and the imagination, the force of the imagination is 
in direct ratio to the square of the will." This mathe- 
matical formula is, of course, not to be regarded literally. 
If the analysis prescribed in the last section has been 
carefully carried out, this conflict will be understood 
and what is even of greater importance, the factors 
producing it will be clearly realized, and as a consequence 
the opposing tendencies will be considerably weakened. 
For instance, if we recognize that unconsciously we are 

1 " Suggestion and Auto-Suggestion, " Baudouin, 192 1. Allen 
and Unwin. 



CONTROL OF THE UNCONSCIOUS 115 

inclined to magnify the difficulty of a certain task that 
we m more credit if it is successfully performed, 

or find greatei consolation if we fail, then that very 
recognition in itself is frequently sufficient to break 
down the obsta les that arise, in this case, from excessive 
self-love, But in self-examination the analysis may not 
be complete and consequently the fixation of interests 
only partially broken down. It is for this reason that 
auto-suggestion is recommended to supplement it. 

The problem now before us is, how to eliminate the 
need for that volitional effort which so frequently only 
thwarts il 

The iii lo is to give up striving, and allow 

the body mind to attain that state of complete 

relaxation which we have described as the pre-requisite 
for free association Then just as the mind is beginning 
to drift away, as it were, into dreamland, then the 
desired end is allowed to come before the mind as 
vividly ble, as something that is bound to 

happen, we are bound to do, because we 

cannot h< I] If the state of relaxation has 

been proper b attained the opposing tendencies which 
have p, ied the fulfilment of these desired 

ends will ice, and opposition removed. If 

the suggi reed by a strong emotion then its 

fulfil m enl i :ssisted. There are really three 

stage we have described. The first is 

the ion which has been sufficiently 

elucidate I is what we have called the state 

of m I fie diverse interests awakened by 

cont -arid begin to fade away, and 

inter; o converge, as it were, of itself, upon 

some realized goal. To this stage 

has t th technical name of "collection." 

The tage is called " contention " when the 

diree Irift is determined by the introduction 

of tl I e ! < I The more vividly this end is imaged 

the ely are the chances of its realization. But 



116 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 

all through there must be no sense of striving or strain. 
Particularly good times for the practice are night and 
morning, just as you are gradually dropping off to 
sleep, or gradually returning to full waking conscious- 
ness. 

Another most interesting discovery that Coue made 
and verified in the course of his exceedingly extensive 
experience, was, that there is no necessity to repeat this 
process time after time in connexion with each separate 
item in respect of which improvement is desired. But 
every night and morning without fail, betwixt sleeping 
and waking, the suggestion should be made, slowly, but 
as vividly as possible, " Day by day, in all respects, I 
get better and better." " In all respects," should be 
emphasised and underlined. Occasionally the details 
of the desired improvement should be dwelt on, such as, 
"I am getting stronger, every organ in my body is 
functioning better and more regularly ; I am facing my 
life with a more reasonable independence and confidence, 
my difficulties are diminishing before my increased 
capacity," etc. 

This method may seem to be too simple to be of any 
value. But it should be remembered that it has been 
tried in a vast number of cases, of the most varied and 
obstinate types, both in functional and organic troubles, 
with the most effective results. It is true we understand 
but little of the mechanisms by which these changes 
are brought about, but research is revealing more and 
more the effect of mental and especially emotional 
states on physiological activity. It is at once the 
difficulty and hope of a movement like this that we do 
not know the limits of the capacity of mind in its power 
over the body. But Baudouin says, this method 
" has secured incontestable results in cases alleged to 
be incurable, in patients given up by practitioners employ- 
ing only the conventional methods of treatment." There 
is, of course, some danger that a person practising the 
method may be led to delay seeking necessary medical 



CONTROL OF THE UNCONSCIOUS 117 

or surgical advice ; but in ordinary methods there is 
always the risk that one may be poulticing an appendix 
when a surgeon should be called in to remove it. We 
are always bound to exercise a certain amount of 
discretion and judgment. When in doubt, see a doctor, 
is a safe rule. Auto-suggestion can still be used in 
co-operation with his treatment. Further, it should be 
remembered, if through fear we refuse to use the 
method of deliberate, reflective auto-suggestion, we 
simply leave ourselves open to the casual and harmful 
suggestions with which life abounds. Analysis should 
provide us with a prophylactic against these, and the 
body and mind thus fortified against harmful influences 
and germs, should be developed by positive suggestions 
that are both healthful and good. 

It may possibly appear to the reader that the intro- 
duction of Suggestion to supplement Analysis is really 
a confession of the insufficiency of the latter, and that 
analysis is an unnecessary waste of time and trouble if 
suggestion is effective. To the first objection the reply 
is, that if the analysis is thorough, then it requires no 
assistance from suggestion. But as we have already 
admitted, it is difficult, if not impossible, for self- 
analysis to attain this ideal. Then why not abandon 
auto-analysis and substitute auto-suggestion ? Because 
the latter, in the mental realm at any rate, is limited 
largely by the very conditions it seeks to remove. It 
is an attempt to educate the unconscious up to the level 
of the conscious. But if the conception of the mind 
we have tried to expound is at all reliable, then the 
conscious itself is very largely determined by the 
unconscious. We seem, therefore, to be in a vicious 
circle, striving to lift ourselves by tugging at our waist- 
band. But if we cannot escape from the circle 
altogether, we can increase the radius and the area 
of our freedom. Analysis helps us to bring into the 
light of self-consciousness some of the hidden tendencies, 
and to see how these are deflecting our ideals and 



118 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 

ambitions. In this way it can raise still higher the level 
of the conscious and thus enlarge the sphere of the 
operation of suggestion. To put the whole matter 
in a nutshell — self-analysis tends to yield more insight 
than power ; self-suggestion yields more power than 
insight. Let them marry. 



CHAPTER VI 

THE PSYCHO-PATHOLOGY OF EVERYDAY LIFE 

ALTHOUGH psycho-analysis can only be 
/--% considered as being yet in its infancy, it has 
X -iL already been applied, with the most striking 
results, not only to the treatment of neurotic illnesses, 
but also to a wide variety of human problems ; and 
just as it has been successful in showing that there is 
a coherence and consistency in the strange creations of 
the dream, and the mind of the hysterical or even 
" insane " person, so also it has been applied to discover 
the hidden meaning of those strange and often fantastic 
mental creations, the myth, the legend, and the fairy 
tale. By means of its mechanisms Freud has 
endeavoured to discover the secret of those strange 
primitive institutions known as the totem and taboo. 
He has applied them also to the elucidation of the 
problems of the psychology of wit. The inspiration of 
genius, the mentality of the criminal, educational and 
sociological problems, the nature of religious experience, 
the common blunders, mistakes and accidents of every- 
day life, have been surveyed in its light, and to all these 
problems, it has, to say the least, brought fresh and 
stimulating insight. It is obviously impossible in the 
scope of this book, for us to do more than consider very 
briefly the application of this method to one or two of 
these questions. 

In his interesting and probably most popular book, 
the title of which we have assumed as the heading of 
this chapter, Freud has dealt with the forgetting of 

119 



120 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 

names, words and engagements, mistakes in speech, 
reading and writing, accidents and errors, and has 
shown with a wealth of examples, that these are not 
due to mere chance or oversight as we are apt to think, 
but to definitely ascertainable psychical causes. The 
unconscious works with a rigorous determinism. Such 
simple incidents as we are here concerned with, are to 
be found in abundance in the course of our ordinary 
experience, and frequently the underlying " wish " lies 
so near the surface that a very slight analysis is suffi- 
cient to reveal it. For this reason the study of such 
cases is particularly helpful for the novice in analytical 
procedure. But the beginner must keep clearly before 
him the distinction between conscious purpose and 
unconscious tendency, and be constantly on his guard 
against the danger of substituting excuses for psycho- 
logical explanation. 

We have already given two examples on pages 37 
and 60. Dr. Ernest Jones, in his treatment of this 
subject, gives an example very similar to the latter, in 
which I attempted to diagnose the cause of my little 
boy's illness. " An instance, which is hard to credit, 
though I can vouch for the accuracy of it, was related 
to me by a medical friend. His wife was seriously ill 
with some obscure abdominal malady, which might 
well have been tubercular, and, while anxiously ponder- 
ing over the possible nature of it, he remarked to her, 
' It is comforting to think that there has been no tuber- 
culosis in your family/ She turned to him very 
astonished and said, ' Have you forgotten that my 
mother died of tuberculosis, and that my sister re- 
covered from it only after having been given up by 
the doctors ? ' His anxiety lest the obscure symptoms 
should prove to be tubercular had made him forget 
a piece of knowledge that was thoroughly familiar 
to him." 

Such an example in itself is sufficient to show that 
forgetting is not always due to obliviscence, a natural 



EVERYDAY LIFE PSYCHO-PATHOLOGY 121 

process of fading from the mind. The fact is that the 
more we examine our forgetting the more we are 
impressed with the fact that it is very frequently, if not 
always, motived by a wanting to forget. It is quite 
true that at the same time we may also want to remem- 
ber. Some time ago in the course of a conversation 
on this subject with a lady, the latter, being unwilling 
to recognize the truth of these conditions, said, " But 
how is it, when I am very busy, it is often just the thing 
I want to remember most, that I forget ? " I evaded 
the question by telling her to give me the full particulars 
the next time such a thing occurred. The fact is, that 
such forgetting is frequently motived by a desire to play 
the role of a martyr to overwork, a fact which I did not 
think it wise to communicate in the course of a casual 
conversation to one who was quite unversed in mind 
analysis. 

This kind of motive plays a larger part in our lives 
than most of us are prepared to admit. Undoubtedly 
the plea of overwork is frequently a defence mechanism 
of an inferiority complex. There are cases of people 
who steadily accumulate work, and commit themselves 
to new undertakings which are obviously beyond their 
capacity. The reason for this is frequently to be found 
in the desire to have a satisfactory excuse in the event of 
any particular task not being satisfactorily performed. 
In such cases, it not seldom happens that the thing that 
is omitted is the very one that is of the greatest im- 
portance or interest. It is as though the person said, 
" Look here, you can see how overworked I am. I have 
actually forgotten to go to draw my pay." 

It has been objected that if we are inclined to forget 
painful incidents, learning by experience would be almost 
an impossibility. But is it not true that we learn more 
by succeeding than by failing ? It is the almost success- 
ful efforts that impress us and stimulate us most as a 
rule. If the memory of failure is too vivid it discourages 
and paralyses. All we know of the psychology of sugges- 



122 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 

tion and fear confirms this. It is only as a wrong effort 
is used to indicate how the right effort shall be made, 
that it is of any value. Then the more we can forget 
the wrong way and concentrate on the right, the more 
likely we are to succeed. It is true that when we have 
become experts we may often refer to the bungles at 
the beginning. But these memories are no longer 
unpleasant. They minister to our self-esteem. 

Further, we must bear in mind that it is the unpleasant 
rather than the painful that we try to escape from. It 
is a commonplace that " pain may be sweet." At any 
rate, if it is not sweet in the moment of actual experience, 
it may become so in memory. The victim assumes more 
the role of the hero. But in the purely unpleasant we 
can find no satisfaction. We turn away from it and 
forget it, unless we can convert it into something less 
repugnant. But — it maybe asked — why are there some 
unpleasant things we do not forget ? In the first place 
it may be said, that there are probably no unpleasant 
things which are not subject to some measure of forget- 
ting. Two years after the event it does not recur in 
memory either with the frequency or vividness that it 
did the following week, or with the frequency or vivid- 
ness of some pleasant event of equal importance. 
Another factor is undoubtedly at work, and that is the 
factor of mental organization. If the event touches our 
lives at many points, it is obviously more difficult to 
forget than if it touched only at a few. This is one 
reason why a broken friendship is more difficult to forget 
than a broken arm. 

But the reader may still think that while this explana- 
tion does cover some examples, there are many cases 
where it breaks down. To put the objection in the 
concrete form in which it was expressed by a critical 
correspondent — " Personally, I am satisfied, as I tell 
my wife, as to why I forget her commissions — they are a 
nuisance — but I have not yet found out why I lose my 
ten-shilling notes, and my umbrella. Freud claims to 



EVERYDAY LIFE PSYCHO-PATHOLOGY 123 

explain too much." 1 According to Dr. E. Jones the 

explanation of the losing of an umbrella depends upon 

the place where it is left. To leave it in the house 

of a friend indicates a desire to return. To leave it 

in a public conveyance suggests a desire to be parted 

from the object because of its own intrinsic qualities or 

because of its associations. With regard to losing 

ten-shilling notes, it would be necessary to consider the 

individual cases on their merits. Personally I find I 

have two ways of regarding them. If they are clean 

new ones, I fold them neatly and put them carefully 

away ; if they are old and dirty, I push them without 

ceremony into the pocket which comes handiest. Here 

they keep company with a variety of other things which 

I do not wish to lose, but which I do not want to be 

troubled with at the moment. I do not want to lose 

these notes, but there is a distinct tendency to treat 

them as dirty scraps of paper. 

For some time I have been running over my recent 

experiences to find some further material to illustrate 

this chapter. I could think of nothing suitable, but all 

the time there is one incident which I might have been 

expected to recall at once. Only a week or two ago I 

left a bag of valuable books, and a parcel of my wife's 

on the platform of a certain railway station. But why 

did this incident, which caused me considerable concern 

at the time, elude me when I was looking for such 

instances ? The reader may have the facts and draw 

his own conclusion. After the event, being interested 

in the causes of such forgetting, several times I had 

asked myself, Why did I forget that bag ? But I 

could discover no reason. The incident apparently did 

1 The above was a part of a typewritten communication. If 
it is read in connexion with what follows immediately afterwards 
it affords an interesting illustration of another type of phenomena 
which it is claimed finds a similar explanation. The writer 
continues, " Bergson has his own theory of forgetting. And 
there is the case of old people and the insane to show that we 
forget proper manners first." He intended of course to write 



124 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 

not fit in with the theory which I wished to demonstrate, 
and so I failed to recall it in this connexion. I have again 
submitted this incident to examination with a view to 
discovering why I left the bag and the parcel. The 
more I think of it the more I feel convinced that the 
explanation is to be found in this direction. I was 
returning with my wife and maid and child from holiday. 
For some time we had been couped up in a stuffy com- 
partment. I couldn't stretch my legs and I couldn't 
smoke. We had the usual holiday impedimenta — 
boxes, bags, etc. When we changed at a certain 
station on the journey we had to show our tickets. To 
do this I was compelled to put down the bag of books 
and the parcel I was carrying. I produced the tickets, 
then lit my pipe, and went off in search of the heavier 
luggage that was to be placed in the guard's van, leaving 
behind the things that I was carrying. The forgetting 
was apparently motived by a selfish, but unconscious 
desire, to be free from the responsibilities, restrictions 
and encumbrances which family travelling involves. 

It has been pointed out that women, and especially 
women in love, are particularly sensitive to this truth. 
But it is probable that where a thing touches us very 
intimately and we are not blinded by our own complexes 
we are all aware of the fact. Be that as it may, let any 
young man excuse himself to his sweetheart for failing 
to greet her in the street on the ground that he did not 
see her, or failing to keep an engagement with her on 
the ground that he forgot, and he will probably get a 
lesson in mind analysis which will be far more impressive 
than any he will get in the pages of this book. The 
tendency of the young man genuinely in love is all in 
the opposite direction. He is apt to " see " his loved 
one in the most unlikely places and in the most unlikely 
people. He is on the look out for her wherever he goes, 
and many a time his heart begins to palpitate at the 
first fleeting glance at some stranger who for the moment 
he imagines to be the adored one. More than once 



EVERYDAY LIFE PSYCHO-PATHOLOGY 125 

after receiving the news of the death of my most intimate 
and lifelong friend in the War in East Africa as I went 
about my duties in France and caught sight of some 
stranger in khaki, I had an uncanny feeling for a moment, 

" It's " Closer examination revealed scarcely the 

slightest resemblance. There can be no doubt, what we 
want to see we often do see, and what we want to forget 
we often do forget. As Brill says, most people are more 
inclined to mislay a bill than a cheque. 

" Slips of the tongue," provide further examples of 
the way unconscious tendencies often reveal themselves. 
Freud gives numerous examples in his book. We will 
cite one of which he was the victim. " Before calling 
on me a patient telephoned for an appointment, and 
also wished to be informed about my consultation fee. 
He was told that the first consultation was ten dollars ; 
after the examination was over he again asked what he 
was to pay, and added : ' I don't like to owe money to 
anyone, especially to doctors ; I prefer to pay right 
away. ' Instead of pay he said play. His last voluntary 
remarks and his mistake put me on my guard, but after 
a few more uncalled-for remarks he set me at ease by 
taking money from his pocket. He counted four paper 
dollars and was very chagrined and surprised because 
he had no more money with him, and promised to send 
me a cheque for the balance. I was sure that his 
mistake betrayed him, that he was only playing with me, 
but there was nothing to be done. At the end of a few 
weeks I sent him a bill for the balance, and the letter 
was returned to me by the post-office authorities marked 
' Not found.' " 

The mislaying of articles also provides a fruitful 
field for investigations of this kind. Again we are 
indebted to Freud for a most interesting case. It 
refers to a young man who tells the story in his own 
words. " Several years ago there were some misunder- 
standings between me and my wife. I found her too 
cold, and though I fully appreciated her excellent 



126 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 

qualities, we lived together without evincing any 
tenderness for each other. One day on her return from 
a walk she gave me a book which she had bought because 
she thought it would interest me. I thanked her for 
this remark of ' attention/ promised to read the book, 
put it away, and did not find it again. So months 
passed, during which I occasionally remembered the 
lost book, and also tried in vain to find it. 

" About six months later my beloved mother, who 
was not living with us, became ill. My wife left home 
to nurse her mother-in-law. The patient's condition 
became serious and gave my wife the opportunity to 
show the best side of herself. One evening I returned 
home full of enthusiasm over what my wife had ac- 
complished, and felt very grateful to her. I stepped to 
my desk and, without definite intention, but with the 
certainty of a somnambulist, I opened a certain drawer, 
and in the very top of it I found the long-missing mislaid 
book." 

But Freud has gone even further and analysed cases 
where apparently arbitrary numbers have arisen in the 
mind, and shown that they are determined by definite 
psychical causes. But such instances usually demand 
more skilful analysis, and, to persons unversed in the 
science seem far-fetched and improbable. 

The analysis of cases of forgetting of proper names 
is usually less difficult, but at the same time often rather 
more complicated than the simple and perhaps rather 
obvious examples we have already cited. For this 
reason they provide a particularly useful exercise. 
Freud, at the beginning of his book, and Jones in the 
chapter we have referred to, both give a detailed ex- 
amination of such instances. The following case may 
possibly prove helpful in the investigation of this type 
of experience. On no less than three occasions since 
returning from active service I have endeavoured to 
recall the name of a certain French village where I 
lived for two months, and in addition to this, I had lived 



EVERYDAY LIFE PSYCHO-PATHOLOGY 127 

in another village only two miles away and had been in 
constant communication with it for another five months. 
On each occasion I was compelled to refer to a map, 
and even then there was a strangeness about the name, 
though there could be no possible doubt as to its correct- 
ness. My memory for names is usually good. Why 
then, did I forget the name Grevillers ? Before ana- 
lysing this instance it should be said that my memory 
of the name was partly determined by a vague visual 
image of the spelling, and partly by an auditory image 
of its common English pronunciation, and scarcely at 
all by its proper French pronunciation which was 
rarely heard. It was commonly referred to as Grey- 
villers or Grave-ill- ers. The nearest I could get in 
attempting to recall the name was Etretat or Etaples, 
both of which places I was perfectly aware are many 
miles away, the only similarity in these names being 
the first vowel sound, though I found it an easy matter 
to establish connexions by association between them 
and Grave-ill-ers, as follows : Etretat, Etre = to be, 
"To be or not to be, that is the question " (Hamlet). 
The connexion with " graves " is obvious. The second 
part of the word, etat, aetat (Latin), generally found on 
tomb stones, and in obituary notices ; Etaples, common 
pronunciation, " ate apple," reminds me of the penalty 
on Adam's disobedience (see Gen. ii, v, 17). The 
connexions are obvious, though I am bound to say that 
I am not aware of any morbid interest in death. 

Turning now to the forgotten word itself, and taking 
first the part that was most obscured, ill. At once 
there comes to my mind the only illness that has been 
of any consequence in my life. But it certainly cannot 
be described as grave, nor was I ever under the impres- 
sion that it could. Possibly my fear was that it was not 
grave enough to enable me to escape from an impending 
situation that I could not help but regard with some 
degree of forboding. Of course I was not aware of this 
at the time, but when I review the course that the illness 



128 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 

took, the two partial recoveries that I made, when 
I over-hastily took up my work in such a way that it 
was almost certain to aggravate the trouble, when I 
remember that I did finally manage to evade the dreaded 
situation, I am bound to admit that the " unconscious 
wish " to be ill had no small bearing on the course of 
the trouble. There are several other facts which point 
in the same direction. Such an experience one does not 
usually regard with pride. Taking now the first syllable 
of the word, Gre, my associations are, malgre, mal — ill. 
Gre — wish, liking, pleasure. Already sufficient associa- 
tions have been given to show that the significance of 
the word Grevillers is over determined as " desired 
illness.' ' Similarly if I take the syllables, villers, the 
associations lead back to an incident, which even now 
I cannot help regarding with some degree of repugnance. 
We have given this example in some detail to indicate 
the way in which rather more difficult cases may be 
attacked. But the reader will probably be inclined to 
doubt the validity of such analysis till he has tried 
similar ones for himself. A little practice in such self- 
examination will serve to put us on our guard against 
the attempt to find a refuge from reality in such excuses 
as forgetting, accident, overwork, illness. It should 
not be imagined, however, that we are maintaining that 
the " unconscious wish " is the only factor, and that 
there are no genuine cases of accident, overwork, or 
illness, but what is maintained is that they are far more 
rare than is commonly supposed. 



CHAPTER VII 
PSYCHO-ANALYSIS AND EDUCATION 

A SATISFACTORY theory of education can only 
be built up on a satisfactory philosophy, a sound 
ethic and an adequate psychology. We may, 
therefore, dismiss at once the idea that such a theory 
can be constructed on a basis of pure psycho-analysis. 
We cannot emphasize too plainly, in view of certain 
claims that have been made, that psycho-analysis is 
not a " new psychology." The utmost that its founder 
would claim is that it is a new and exceedingly important 
development of psychological theory and technique. 
Further we do not believe it is desirable, necessary or 
possible to apply the full technique of this method to 
the task of educating the ordinary child. And finally, 
we must remember that rapid as the growth of this 
study has been, it is still in its infancy and it would be 
nothing less than a blunder and a crime to allow our 
children to be the victims of some enthusiast with a 
smattering of what is recognized as a most difficult 
and complicated branch of knowledge. Nevertheless, 
we believe it can throw a great amount of light on the 
problems of education, suggest new view-points, and 
furnish some guiding principles. From what has been 
said in previous chapters it will be recognized that two 
of the chief aims should be the elimination, as far as 
possible of the methods that work by repression, and 
the provision of opportunities of sublimation. We shall 
now consider briefly from this point of view the two 
great educational institutions, the home and the school, 
9 129 



130 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 

and then the new movement inspired by the ideal of 
" Freedom in Education," the problem of sexual 
enlightenment, and finally the nature and possibilities 
of sublimation. 



I. THE HOME 

Psycho-analysis recognizes in the home, even in these 
days of universal, compulsory education, the chief 
factor in the determination of the life and career of the 
individual. It is the first five years of a child's life that 
are of the greatest importance in the shaping of his 
character and attitude to the world, and we are beginning 
to realize that these are of far greater importance than 
the acquirement of knowledge or of skill. In these five 
years the home has almost undisputed sway. And in 
the home the factor of greatest significance is not the 
economic, far-reaching as that may be, nor yet the 
explicit efforts directed towards training and discipline, 
nor even the example of the parents, but something 
deeper and more powerful still, what we may call, in 
its widest sense, the spiritual relations of child and 
parent. We have already drawn attention to the part 
that the parent relation plays in the production of 
nervous disorders. This alone would be sufficient to 
indicate that an influence that is able to bring about 
such baneful results must be powerful indeed. 

This problem of family relationship has been made the 
subject of a series of most interesting psychological 
experiments by Miss Furst, M.D., a pupil of Dr. Jung. 
By means of the latter's word association method 
described in Chapter II, she examined twenty-four 
families, consisting altogether of one hundred test 
persons ; the resulting material amounted to 22,200 
associations." The responses were classified into fifteen 
groups for each separate person, according to the type 



PSYCHO-ANALYSIS AND EDUCATION 131 

of the response. The percentage of each type was 
worked out and compared both for related and unre- 
lated persons, and then the average for the whole fifteen 
groups. It was found that the greatest difference in 
the types of response was to be found in unrelated 
female persons, closely followed by unrelated males. 
The least difference was between mother and daughters, 
closely followed by father and sons. The general 
difference between mothers and children was notably 
less than the difference between fathers and children. 
The reader will remember that in this experiment that 
a series of simple words is enunciated one by one and the 
subject is asked to give the first word that comes into 
his mind without stopping to think. Bearing this in 
mind the comment of Jung upon the experiment will 
be understood. " One might think that in this experi- 
ment, where full scope is given to chance, individuality 
would become a factor of the utmost importance, and 
that, therefore, one might expect a very great diversity 
and lawlessness of associations. But as we see the 
opposite is the case. Thus the daughter lives con- 
tentedly in the same circle of ideas as her mother, not 
only in her thought but in her form of expression ; 
indeed, she even uses the same words. What could be 
regarded as more inconsequent, inconstant, and lawless 
than a fancy, a rapidly passing thought ? It is not 
lawless, however, neither is it free, but closely deter- 
mined within the limits of the milieu." 1 If such slight 
and superficial activities of the mind are so much 
influenced by the family environment, how much more 
should we expect, Jung asks, the more important 
conditions of the mind, the emotions, wishes and hopes, 
and intentions to be determined by that environment ? 
Most of us, probably at some time or other have 
laughed at some fond mother's exaggerated ideas of the 
intelligence of her infant child, but it is quite possible 
that she was nearer the truth than we were. It may be 
1 Jung, " Analytical Psychology." 



132 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 

true that the child's intelligence was not sufficiently 
developed for it to grasp the meaning of the words 
addressed to it, but the child has a remarkable emotional 
sensitivity, which often impels it to behave as though 
it really understood. We must remember that the 
wide differences that exist between the thought capacities 
of child and adult are far greater than the differences 
of emotional capacity. Even a young infant of little 
more than a year old is quite capable of manifesting 
signs of most of the great primary emotions, and very 
early his emotional life begins to organize itself into the 
simpler sentiments. Then again psychological observa- 
tion goes to show that as a rule, the more restricted the 
powers of thought, the more sensitive is the emotional 
life within its range. For these reasons we regard the 
emotional atmosphere in the home as of the very utmost 
significance in the education of the child. Long before 
it can walk or talk the personality of mother and father, 
and especially the former are leaving their indelible 
mark on its young mind. The words of Jung on this 
subject are deserving of the most careful consideration 
by every parent and teacher. " It is not the good and 
pious precepts, nor is it any other inculcation of peda- 
gogic truths that have a moulding influence upon the 
character of the developing child, but what most in- 
fluences him is the peculiarly affective state which is 
totally unknown to his parents and educators. The 
concealed discord between the parents, the secret worry, 
the repressed and hidden wishes, all these produce in 
the individual a certain affective state with its objective 
signs which slowly but surely, though unconsciously, 
works its way into the child's mind, producing therein 
the same conditions and hence the same reactions to 
external stimuli. We know the depressing effect 
mournful and melancholic persons have upon us. A 
restless and nervous individual infects his surroundings 
with unrest and dissatisfaction, a grumbler with his 
discontent, etc. Since grown-up persons are so sensi- 



PSYCHO-ANALYSIS AND EDUCATION 133 

tive to surrounding influences, we should certainly 
expect this to be even more noticeable among children, 
whose minds are as soft and plastic as wax. The father 
and mother impress deeply into the child's mind the seal 
of their personality ; the more sensitive and mouldable 
the child the deeper is the impression. Thus things 
that are never even spoken about are reflected in the 
child. The child imitates the gesture, and just as the 
gesture of the parent is the expression of an emotional 
state, so in turn the gesture gradually produces in the 
child a similar feeling, as it feels itself, so to speak, into 
the gesture. Just as the parents adapt themselves to 
the world, so does the child." 1 

This is so excellently expressed and backed by such 
an extensive experience that we hesitate to qualify it 
in any way. But we would warn the reader against 
forming the impression that the last two sentences may 
possibly leave, that it is all, or even mainly, a matter 
of imitation. The child's emotional response is far 
more sensitive and immediate than that. There can 
be no doubt that there are times when, to use McDougall's 
terminology, the emotion is sympathetically induced, 
before the gesture is copied. 2 ' Further it should not be 
thought that the child's adaptation is always a mere 
repetition of the parents'. The child's individuality is 
rarely obliterated to that extent, and the identification 
which such an adaptation involves is frequently modified 
by reaction formations to a parent who is feared or 
hated. But these observations only serve to emphasize 
more strongly the warnings to which Jung has here 
given expression. 

But the question naturally arises in view of these 
considerations, Why is it that good and respectable 
people frequently have children who are quite the 

1 Op. cit., p. 126. 

2 Jung is perfectly well aware of this. In his Introduction to 
Mrs. Evans' "Problem of the Nervous Child," he says, "the 
infantile imitation is less concerned with the action than with the 
parent's state of mind from which the action emanates." 



134 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 

reverse ? It would be foolish to answer this question 
with a sweeping generalization. Each particular case 
demands to be examined on its own merits. But many 
cases find their explanation in this direction. The 
goodness of the parents, to put it in general terms, is a 
reaction formation from, rather than a sublimation of, 
certain base impulses. In their earlier years, conscious 
of these impulses they turned away from them with 
revulsion and loathing. The result is that these 
tendencies are still active but find expression in harsh 
and immoderate condemnation. It is very probable 
that the children will inherit strong tendencies in the 
same direction. The harsh condemnation then only 
brings these things all the more vividly into conscious- 
ness, and thereby reinforces the already strong desire. 
If this desire is not satisfied in defiance of parental 
admonition, it not infrequently leads to " kicking over 
the traces " and its unpredictable consequences. 

But it is possible that the explanation may be found 
in the fact that the parents were themselves subjected 
to stern discipline, and their undesirable impulses 
thereby checked. Then with a vague and perhaps 
scarcely realized desire they give their children the 
" freedom " which they so sorely missed, they allow them 
latitude without being able to sublimate the impulses 
that are receiving full play. It is a matter of common 
observation that parents often look to their children 
for the fulfilment of their own unrealized desires. But 
it is not only the conscious wish that is thus fulfilled, 
but also the unconscious tendency. For this reason 
Jung frequently advises in the case of young patients 
the treatment of the mother rather than the child. 
But let it be clearly understood that these considerations 
are not offered as a final answer to the question before 
us, but rather as an indication of the lines along which 
an explanation may probably be found. 

It is not necessary, perhaps, to say very much about 
the special problem of only and favourite children. 



PSYCHO-ANALYSIS AND EDUCATION 135 

The danger is well known. But the real peril is that we 
may see the mistakes of other people in this respect, 
while we are often blinded by our complexes to our own. 
A most interesting study of this question is to be found 
in the story of the Hebrew patriarchs as recorded in 
the book of Genesis. Ishmael, the son of Abraham and 
Hagar, the Egyptian bondslave, develops an inferiority 
complex through being deprived of his rightful place 
in the family life and compensates for it by becoming a 
skilled archer and a rebel against society, while Isaac, 
the pampered and petted son of his parents' old age, is 
a nonentity. In the next generation a tragedy is 
narrowly averted between Esau and Jacob whose 
rivalry, if not originally caused, was fomented by the 
favouritism of the father towards the one, and of the 
mother towards the other. It is interesting to note 
that Jacob marries his cousin on his mother's side, and 
between the wife, Rachel, and the mother, Rebecca, 
there was at least one explicitly stated resemblance. 
They were both deceitful. As psycho-analysis has 
shown over and over again, the choice of a wife is largely 
determined, in many cases, by the mother image. In 
the third generation the same family tragedy was again 
barely escaped. This time it was due to Jacob's 
favouritism of Joseph and afterwards of Benjamin. 
Indeed there can be little doubt that Brill is right in 
finding that many of the difficulties that have arisen 
in the course of the checkered history of the Jews have 
been caused by their deep conviction that they were 
Jehovah's peculiar people. It should not be thought, 
however, that we wish to maintain that " only " 
children are the inevitable victims of their position. 
Much depends on the common sense of the parents, 
and the opportunities that are provided of getting in 
touch with the outside world, and of mixing with other 
children. The position of favourite children is much 
more unfortunate. Here the parents are definitely 
to blame, and the problem is almost sure to be further 



136 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 

complicated by the jealous regard of the other children 
of the family. 

Such considerations as these point to the conclusion 
that the child should not be denied a reasonable meed of 
affection, nor on the other hand swamped with senti- 
mental indulgence. Either extreme is bound to pro- 
duce baneful results. He should not be encouraged to 
waste his emotional energies in an undue attachment 
to the parents, or in resentment against real or imaginary 
wrongs, but his energies should rather be directed to- 
wards the tackling of the problems of his environment. 
The aim of the parent should be the graduation of those 
difficulties and an adjustment of them to his growing 
capacities. Interference should be reduced to a mini- 
mum, and should be directed towards the end of inducing 
the child to find his satisfaction in the tackling and 
overcoming of difficulties rather than in the pleasure 
of external rewards or the avoiding of the pain of 
external penalties. As far as possible he should learn 
from experience rather than from the exhortations and 
other types of interference of his would-be educators. 
Holt in his " Freudian Wish " has a chapter on the 
subject which is well worth attention. At the same 
time we readily admit that when we come up against 
the concrete problem it is often anything but easy of 
solution. It may be possible as Holt suggests, to let 
a little toddler get just sufficient contact with fire to 
know that it can be unpleasant as well as attractive, 
but he cannot be allowed to learn by experience the 
physiological effects of coal gas, by being allowed to 
play with the brass taps of the kitchen stove. It is 
true that much may be done by reducing the number 
of provoking but dangerous objects in his environment, 
and the provision of other objects of interest, but the 
problem cannot always be solved in this way. Sooner 
or later the child must learn not to touch the taps. 
The more such problems can be postponed till the child 
is able to understand and accept the simple word of 



PSYCHO-ANALYSIS AND EDUCATION 137 

his parents, the better. But we do not think it is 
desirable to eliminate entirely all forms of punishment 
and reward from the training of a young and active child, 
but they should be reduced to a minimum, and should 
be as rational and impersonal as it is possible to make 
them. Too often punishment is just the abreaction 
of angry feelings, and not infrequently the expression 
of a definitely sadistic impulse. It may be necessary 
to remind some people that a child does not necessarily 
commit a crime because he acts in a way that is in- 
convenient to his elders. 

It should scarcely be necessary at this stage, to point 
out the desirability of trying to discover the causes that 
underlie cases of misconduct. Such cases often take 
the form of a compromise formation, by means of 
which a tendency which is denied its natural expression, 
finds its satisfaction in some other way. In this con- 
nexion Healy's " Mental Conflict and Misconduct " is 
full of illuminating material. He cites in some detail 
the results of a mental analysis of forty cases selected 
out of 150 in which he found misconduct was determined 
by mental conflict. The cases cover kleptomania, 
bad temper, extreme wilfulness, destructiveness, running 
away from home, and malicious cruelty. It is a signifi- 
cant fact that Healy found in practically every case 
that " sex " played a large part in the production of 
the conflict, either in actual sexual experiences, or in 
sexual knowledge improperly acquired from bad com- 
panions, or through some stigma or doubt attaching 
to the child's parentage, etc. The examination of the 
cases reveals that often the child had no desire to steal 
or run away, that he gained nothing but trouble and 
pain by these activities, but was apparently under a 
kind of compulsion which the child himself often realized 
was connected with the sex interests. We will cite by 
way of illustration Case 3. It was of a boy of ten years, 
who was guilty of repeated acts of stealing and staying 
away from home at nights. His self -revelation is as 



138 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 

pathetic as it is artless. Healy gives the following 
extract in the boy's own words : " That kid I was 
telling you about was the first I heard bad words from. 
He was one of the kids that was in the barn that I was 
telling you about, where the rag-man was. I never 
told mamma about him. His family moved away now. 
He would tell bad words in the settlement house. I 
think of these : that's how it spoils me. I used to tell 
bad words, but no more. When a kid gets to know 
these things, he feels like saying them out. I don't 
no more : it makes me sick. ... If I see a girl going 
to the store, I think about what they said about taking 
money away. I think of things. It sounds it — it 
sounds it ; I don't like to tell about them, I'm ashamed. 
. . . Sure, it comes to my mind about robbing. When 
it comes in mind to take things, I get sort of scared, 
and then maybe I take it and put it down in my hand 
like this, roll it in my sweater sleeve. They don't like 
me in our house, my pa don't. . . . The teachers say 
they don't want me because I spoil the other boys. . . ." x 
Not so long ago, the only " cure " for such a case would 
have been the birch. It makes one sick to think of 
the intolerable wrong. 

In reviewing these cases Dr. Healy is unable to find 
any explanation in family history, in nationality, in 
general abilities or special mental characteristics, or 
in environmental circumstances. The cases came from 
all ranks and conditions of society. But he makes one 
very significant comment. " There is one common 
feature, however, that belongs to what may be called 
the psychical environment. These misdoers with mental 
conflicts never had anyone near to them, particularly 
in family life, who supplied opportunities for sympa- 
thetic confidences. Repression has gone on very largely 
as the result of this need." a All too often the mind of 

1 P. 95- 

2 W. Healy, " Mental Conflict and Misconduct," p. 321. 
Kegan Paul, 1920. 



PSYCHO-ANALYSIS AND EDUCATION 139 

the child is a sealed book to the parent, sealed by a 
lack of candour and sympathetic insight very often on 
the part of well-meaning parents. But we shall return 
to this subject in a later section. 

It may possibly be objected that these are exceptional 
cases. In the offences that were committed it is true, 
but it must be borne in mind that as far as the most 
careful and expert examination could discover the vast 
majority of these children were otherwise perfectly 
normal. It must be remembered further that the 
mechanisms that were apparently responsible for these 
offences are at work to some extent in the mind of every 
child. It is the obvious duty, therefore, of every 
parent to try and win the child's confidence. It is not 
to be obtained by coercion, or by suspicious prying. 
But confidence begets confidence, and candour begets 
candour, while fear breeds fear and repression breeds 
repression. In view of these considerations it can 
hardly be denied that the thing that is of outstanding 
importance in the upbringing of a child is the character 
and spiritual quality of the parents, and that the aim 
of the latter should be to avoid repressing the indi- 
viduality of the child, and to encourage the growth of 
a rational independence that when the time comes for 
the adolescent to go forth and face life for himself he 
may do so with resolute spirit and a stout heart. 



2. THE SCHOOL 

Practically everything that has been said of the home 
has its bearing on the problem and work of the school. 
At the present time, when, under economic pressure so 
much disparaging criticism of our educational efficiency 
is rife, it may possibly be some little comfort to teachers 
that psycho-analysis bids parents look first of all a little 
nearer home for the cause of the alleged failure. But 



140 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 

such comfort will be very short-lived for every right- 
minded teacher. Such consolation is very like the 
gratitude that was expressed in the story of the church 
official who after bewailing the poor attendance at his 
church, heaved a sigh of relief and said, " But thank 
God the church over the road is doing no better ! " 

Just as in the home it is the personality of the parent 
that is the most powerful influence, so in the school it 
is the personality of the teacher that counts most. 
Methods and curricula are undoubtedly important, 
but even so their importance is secondary. This, of 
course, does not mean that the teacher should dominate, 
and certainly he should not domineer. Even in such 
methods as the Montessori, where the role of the teacher 
is reduced as far as possible to that of an observer, the 
teacher is still the most significant fact in the child's 
environment. In his discussion of this subject, Prof. 
Nunn says, of the Montessori directress, " She, with her 
superior powers and knowledge and her developed 
personality, is herself a constant and most important 
element in the environment, and exercises on the grow- 
ing minds about her an influence that will be none the 
less decisive because it is brought to bear in the indirect 
form of suggestion and example rather than by precept 
and command. . . . Insensibly but surely her values 
become their values, her standards their standards ; 
and from her come the influences that direct the children's 
social impulses into definite forms of kindly action." 1 
" The Law of Normal Suggestibity," formulated by 
Boris Sidis on the basis of an extensive series of experi- 
ments, provides an illuminating comment on this passage 
" Normal suggestibility varies as indirect suggestion, 
and inversely as direct suggestion." 2 

The task of the teacher is, in several respects more 
complicated than that of the parent, though it is well 

1 Nunn, " Education : Its Data and First Principles." 
Arnold, 1920. 

2 Boris Sidis, " Psychology of Suggestion." 



PSYCHO-ANALYSIS AND EDUCATION 141 

to remember that in at least one way it is rendered 
more simple. Education is the sole business of the 
teacher, while the average mother finds her time very 
largely taken up with other household duties, and the 
father's work rarely provides much leisure to devote 
to his offspring. But the parents have the advantage 
of beginning at the beginning, while the teacher, as a 
rule, only takes up her duties when the first five most 
important years are past. The child comes to her 
already bearing the indelible marks of the home. It 
is essential that the teacher should discover as accurately 
as possible what the general trends of the home influence 
are, and where they are satisfactory, strive to co-operate 
with them, and where they are harmful, wisely and tact- 
fully to endeavour to counteract them. This task is 
admittedly not an easy one. No two scholars and no 
two homes are exactly alike. Economic necessity in 
the home and the size of the class in the school, to say 
nothing of the factor of personal inertia, lead to the 
adoption of measures and devices, of which the aim is 
rather to secure the amenability of the child than his 
true education. But there are two considerations 
worthy of note in this connexion. The time that is 
spent in getting to understand the child, and winning 
his confidence and co-operation, will probably be more 
than saved later on, when instead of having to repeat 
lessons again and again in the endeavour to drive them 
home into a recalcitrant mind, or one that is inhibited 
by misgivings, the child responds with eagerness and 
confidence, and the lessons are learnt with a minimum 
of friction and loss of time. Further, if the spontaneous 
interests of the scholar were more utilized, and methods 
of self-education more extensively adopted, as in the 
Montessori method, the size of the class would constitute 
a less serious difficulty. By a wise use of the child's 
spontaneous interests the teacher's time might be con- 
siderably economized, and what is more important the 
child would bring to his work a unified interest and good- 



142 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 

will which would enable him to make the most of his 
natural gifts. Undoubtedly it is one of the most 
hopeful signs of the schools of to-day that they are 
curbing less that natural spontaneity which is the right- 
ful possession of every child. The writer has personal 
knowledge of a school where twenty years ago, the ideal 
of goodness instilled by force majeure into the scholars' 
mind was to sit absolutely motionless with arms folded 
behind the back, and the children were allowed to 
believe that the further back they were able to hold 
their heads the more nearly they reached perfection. 
Any day an observer might see children from three to 
six years of age coming out of that school, and here and 
there he would see a little fellow with his cap peeping 
from under his blouse, marching the whole length of 
the playground with his arms still folded behind his 
back, apparently not realizing till he was right outside 
of the school precincts that he was free to relax. Such 
" discipline " can only create slaves or rebels. 

Another difficulty the teacher has to contend with is 
the rigid school furniture, the rigid time-table and the 
rigid regulations. There is no doubt that these 
" rigidities " will have to yield if real progress is to be 
made. In the present day, however, it looks as if pro- 
gress must take a " back seat " in the interests of 
economy. But " where there is a will there is a way." 
Finance is not an insuperable obstacle ; it is more fre- 
quently an excuse to justify spiritual inertia which is 
the real obstacle. If teachers know what they want 
and have the courage to fight for it and the willingness 
to sacrifice for it, the strongest departmental opposition 
and the most obstinate social lethargy will yield. The 
real difficulty, we believe, lies in finding out what is 
really wanted. In this quest psycho-analysis may 
render real service. 

But the teacher may ask, has this study any contri- 
bution to make with regard to the details of the cur- 
riculum ? On this question we can only offer a few 



PSYCHO-ANALYSIS AND EDUCATION 143 

general observations. The aim of education, as it 
appears to psycho-analysis, is the development of the 
individual so that he may make his maximum contribu- 
tion to society and find in it his maximum satisfaction. 
It is obvious, therefore, that the child should acquire 
at least the rudiments of that knowledge and skill without 
which he is bound to be seriously incapacitated in taking 
his place in modern society. The training of the senses 
is undoubtedly desirable, especially the senses of sight, 
hearing and touch, for these are the chief gateways to 
the outer world. The average person probably imagines 
that these senses need no training, but then the average 
person has " eyes and sees not, ears and hears not," 
and is quite oblivious of the fact. It will be more 
readily agreed that the child should be able to read and 
write and be capable of simple arithmetical calculations. 
History, geography, literature, science, music, art, and 
manual training are all desirable, but the aim of the 
elementary school, it seems to us, should be to link these 
subjects to the child's actual interests and to awaken 
the desire for knowledge rather than to attempt to crowd 
his mind with facts. The question of religious training 
is the most difficult of all. To us the religious ideal 
stands for the final synthesis of all mental activity, 
both in thought and action, and the reconciliation 
of all the diverse interests of mankind in mutual 
service and fellowship. But we are a long way from 
that. Meanwhile we do not see what good is to 
be expected from religious training as long as it 
is left in the hands of teachers who have no religious 
faith and often no religious interest, or on the 
other hand to enthusiasts who have neither natural 
nor acquired qualifications for teaching. We do not 
wish to convey the impression that this is the universal 
state of affairs, but undoubtedly it is all too common. 

We have said that psycho-analysis suggests as the 
aim of education the fitting of the individual to take his 
place in the world and in social life. If this aim is 



144 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 

sound then it follows as a consequence that our schools 
should be organized so as to make the transition from 
the home and the nursery to the workshop and the world 
as smooth and satisfactory as possible. It is impossible 
to reproduce in the school all the varied conditions 
the adolescent will meet in the world and it would 
not be desirable if it could be done. But at present the 
transition is far too abrupt. After being sheltered and 
shepherded in the school, he is turned out to fight and 
fend for himself as best he can, very often in the most 
critical years of his life. What is needed is such an 
arrangement of school life, especially in the later years, 
as will provide the scholar with practical lessons in self- 
control, independence and sound judgment by means 
of actual experience. To this end it is desirable that 
a certain amount of time should be set aside, at any rate 
for the older scholars, when tasks and plans of their own 
choosing, should be executed with a minimum of external 
aid or regulation. If, as is very possible, this involves 
a certain amount of confusion and conflict amongst the 
individual aims, the scholars should talk over their 
schemes in council with the view of devising a scheme 
by which these difficulties could be overcome. The 
teacher should interfere as little as possible and avoid 
settling difficulties by arbitrary decrees, seeking rather 
to indicate lines along which the children may find a 
solution of their troubles. They should be encouraged 
to talk in a simple and natural way to the teacher about 
their work and aims, not as to one to whom they are 
accountable, or of whom they stand in fear, but rather 
as to an interested and experienced friend. Further 
the recent developments of the Continuation Schools 
should provide the wise and sympathetic teacher with 
an opportunity of making the transition from school to 
workshop and business less abrupt. But boys at this 
age are not the most accessible of beings and are apt to 
regard the school as a menace to their freedom and as an 
unwelcome reminder that they are still boys. Hence 



PSYCHO-ANALYSIS AND EDUCATION 145 

arise the challenge and temptation to rule with a strong 
hand. But the result of such measures is only to post- 
pone the problem and render it more acute. 

If psycho-analysis emphasizes the necessity of pro- 
viding each individual with the fullest opportunities for 
development, it emphasizes not less the necessity of a 
healthy development of corporate life. The neurosis, as 
Jones reminds us, is essentially a social disorder, arising 
from, and perpetuating, social maladjustment. Here 
again, it is the personality of the teacher or parent that 
constitutes no small part of the difficulty, because with 
the best of intentions he is apt to dominate the situation. 
If the teacher is of a masterful spirit, he thereby over- 
stimulates both the self-abasement and the self-assertion 
tendencies. The consequence is, that the children 
manifest in their relations to him, too great a degree of 
subservience, and in their relations to one another are 
inclined to be too overbearing so that they can only 
find a solution of their differences by a trial of brute 
strength. Rather should the teacher strive, by a wise 
self-effacement, to encourage the spirit of comradeship 
and co-operation which will lead the children to seek 
for themselves, a fair and equitable way out of their 
social difficulties. 

Another aim of education suggested by the study on 
which we are engaged is the increasing of the powers of 
the child's adaptability. No educator can foresee what 
will be the future history of his charges, or what will 
be the nature of the social changes which will affect 
their lives. It is, therefore, very desirable that the 
child should learn to adapt himself to unexpected 
situations, and to face disappointments with such 
courage and resourcefulness, that he may make even 
these, as far as possible, serve his own legitimate ends. 

There is one other question of very great interest to 
every educator, to which we must refer in this all-too- 
brief survey. It is the question of the child's intelli- 
gence. Ingenious tests have been devised by M. Alfred 
10 



146 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 

Binet, of Paris, and developed by later investigators 
with a view to measuring intelligence. But analysis 
has revealed that a child's apparent intelligence is 
determined not merely by his native endowments, 
but also by his acquired unconscious " resistances." 
Physical factors, such as mal-nutrition, adenoids, etc., 
are now commonly recognized as playing a great part 
in determining the child's capacity, but the psychical 
factor of resistance is either overlooked or mis-inter- 
preted. Many a scholar fails to make the most of his 
gifts because he is inhibited by fear or misgivings, or 
is animated by an unconscious hostility to the teacher, 
very probably a transference from one or other of his 
parents, or he is in the grip of an inferiority complex, 
which is also probably of family origin. It is possible 
that the backwardness may apply to only one or two 
subjects. In that case it is frequently that the pupil 
has a resistance against that subject on account of some 
unpleasant, but unrealized associations. In such cases it 
is rarely of much use to resort to questioning, exhorting 
or punishing. The teacher must endeavour to discover 
the causes of the trouble. A detailed psycho-analysis 
is rarely necessary. As a rule the child's unconscious is 
easily accessible to the sympathetic mind that is not 
blinded by its own complexes. It is usually quite 
sufficient to win the child's confidence and then to 
encourage him to talk freely. It is, perhaps, scarcely 
necessary to point out that the teacher who is in the 
habit of employing sarcasm or stinging ridicule as aids 
to discipline will make little headway in this direction. 
The discovery of the causes will suggest the remedy 
as far as it lies in the teacher's power. Indeed with the 
winning of the child's confidence the battle is more than 
three parts won. These considerations bring us face 
to face with the problem of freedom. 



PSYCHO-ANALYSIS AND EDUCATION 147 



3. EDUCATION AND FREEDOM 

It has been impossible entirely to avoid any reference 
to this question in considering the place of the home and 
the school in the work of education. We have only 
reserved it for separate attention because of its special 
importance from the point of view from which we are 
looking at the problem of education, and because of 
the great interest it is arousing in educational circles 
to-day. 

The question of " freedom " is one involving exten- 
sive and subtle psychological and philosophical implica- 
tions. We must perforce be content with a few obser- 
vations on the subject. Democracy in the State 
involves freedom as an educative ideal. The old 
dictum, " that man is everywhere born free," is in 
flagrant contradiction to the facts. The new-born 
child is the most helpless and dependent of creatures, 
utterly devoid of all but the barest potentialities of 
freedom, and equally incapable of respecting the rights 
to it in others. It is only by education that he can enter 
into the liberty which a free community provides. 
There are, then, two aspects of freedom that must be 
carefully distinguished, which we may call personal 
freedom and social freedom. The latter is determined 
by the nature (not the multiplicity) of the laws, 
traditions and public opinion of the community. That 
community is most free which provides its members 
with the widest choice of ends and the fullest facilities 
for realizing them. But a man may be free by the law 
and customs of the State to enter any one of a hundred 
different occupations, but if he is lacking in the qualifi- 
cations for these tasks, to use Prof. Hobhouse's phrase 
he is not " free by the law of the facts." He is lacking 
in personal freedom, and this is only to be obtained by 
education. In the same way social freedom can only 
be created and maintained by awakening within the 



148 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 

individual a sacred regard for the rights of freedom in 
others. " Freedom through education," should be 
the watch-word of democracy. 

But the movement to which we referred above does 
not regard freedom merely as an end, but also as a 
means to that end. Its watchword is " Freedom in 
Education." It works on the principle that the 
individual can only learn to be free by being free to 
learn. It is contended that coercion and constraint 
are bound to produce a certain amount of dissociation 
and a consequent dissipation of energy, and that as a 
matter of experimental fact children do learn more 
quickly and effectively when wise use is made of their 
spontaneous interests. Various methods have been 
devised to embody these ideas, the best known being 
that of Dr. Maria Montessori. With these efforts the 
psycho-analyst is bound to evince the keenest sympathy. 
But he is also bound to draw attention to these facts 
which may be easily overlooked. Spontaneity is not 
identical with freedom. The flock of sheep that rushes 
headlong over a precipice, following a leader who has 
caught sight of some toothless old mongrel, is not free. 
Nor is the child free who simply obeys the imitative 
impulse to carry out a certain activity, even though 
that activity is useful and not harmful. He is only 
truly free when he learns to think and act for himself 
and learns to think and act rationally. Further the 
child who is labouring under the tyranny of a parent 
or inferiority complex cannot be free no matter what 
may be the nature of the school environment. And it 
is on this spiritual freedom of the individual that 
psycho-analysis lays its supreme emphasis. 

The reader who is interested in the effort to translate 
the ideal of " Freedom in Education " into practice, 
will find some interesting illustrations of what is being 
done in this direction, in Miss Alice Wood's " Education 
Experiments in England." But a consideration of 
these experiments reveals the necessity of emphasizing 



PSYCHO-ANALYSIS AND EDUCATION 149 

the importance of personal freedom. To provide the 
child with an environment where coercion and restraint 
are reduced to a minimum is desirable, but it is not 
enough. To some extent it is true that social freedom 
helps towards personal freedom. But in many cases, 
if not in all, something more is needed. And that 
" something more " cannot be obtained by the most 
skilful and liberal organization. It will depend almost 
entirely upon what we may call " mental contacts," of 
scholar with scholar, and especially of scholar with 
teacher. If the teacher is not free from the desire to 
domineer, free from vanity, free from the lust for 
spectacular results with the least expenditure of energy, 
if affection is not kept untainted with sentimentality, 
if in a word, the teacher is not spiritually free, neither 
can the children be free or learn to be free. But with 
this must go insight into the working of the individual 
child's mind, especially into the working of its deeper 
strata. To discover what are the impulses that are not 
finding satisfaction, what tendencies are being warped 
by the influence of home or companions — this is an 
essential if the child is to be led into true liberty. The 
way to this discovery lies through the child's day- 
dreams. To be able to win and deserve this confidence 
seems to us the hall-mark of the true teacher. Freedom 
and friendship go hand-in-hand. The supreme require- 
ments of the teacher are character and discernment. 
Knowledge in the ordinary sense is important, but it 
is subordinate to them. 

In conclusion we would repeat that it is beyond the 
province of this study to formulate a complete theory 
of education. Even in this brief sketch we must plead 
guilty to having trespassed on other domains. The 
observations we have ventured to make need to be 
amplified and orientated in the light of the facts to be 
obtained from other branches of knowledge. After 
all man is not merely an animal with an unconscious. 
But the theory which ignores the unconscious is seriously 



150 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 

incomplete in that it fails to take account of a most 
powerful dynamic for weal or woe in the psychic life of 
man. 



4. SEXUAL EDUCATION 

It is becoming increasingly recognized that the 
education of the child is deplorably incomplete if it 
ignores the tremendous significance and power of the 
sexual instinct. If there is any truth in the theories 
that we have endeavoured to expound in this book, 
then such an omission comes perilously near to reducing 
education to a systematized process of evasion. For- 
tunately, however, we often build better than we know, 
and without realizing it, provide opportunities for the 
partial sublimation of these impulses. But in these 
days of scientific enquiry we can never rest contented 
with such an attitude, nor can we regard it as being 
adequate to the needs of the child. The process of 
sublimation is rarely, if ever complete. As a rule all it 
can do is to effect a certain amount of relief from the 
definitely sexual urge. The facts must still be faced. 
The problem is undoubtedly one of great difficulty and 
delicacy, and possibly always will be. There is a con- 
siderable difference of opinion as to how it should be 
tackled, though these tend to converge on two or 
three main principles. It is universally agreed that the 
conspiracy of silence must cease. It is both futile and 
dangerous. A child probably never entirely outgrows 
the effects of learning the root facts of life from vulgar 
and possibly obscene sources. Even if the effort to 
shield him from these is successful, he is still exposed to 
the danger of unguided fantasies. The impression 
that some parents have, that because their children 
never speak about these things they never think about 
them, has been proved in case after case to be utterly 



PSYCHO-ANALYSIS AND EDUCATION 151 

erroneous. Because the subject is difficult that is all 
the more reason why the child should not be left to 
haphazard discovery. We shall now endeavour briefly 
to indicate what seem to be the best lines of procedure. 
In the first place the sexual instinct should be shielded 
as far as possible from unnecessary stimulation. This 
stimulation may be internal or external. With regard 
to the former, if a child is found to be over-interested 
in its sexual organs, one visit to the doctor will probably 
be sufficient to put this matter right. In any case stern 
threats and punishment should be avoided. If they 
secure apparent success they are almost bound to turn 
that interest into a secret but fearful fascination. The 
parent may be successful in controlling the child's 
actions, but such methods only drive the trouble inward 
and accentuate it. It is far better to engage the 
attention in external objects and thus divert it from 
the self. If it is necessary to speak, this should be done 
in matter-of-fact, everyday tones, and epithets calcu- 
lated to arouse disgust and fear should be avoided. 
Another recommendation on which psycho-analysts 
are unanimous, is that children over twelve months of 
age should not sleep in the same room as their parents. 
The reason for this is, that, as we have already explained, 
a child's emotional sensibility is far greater than the 
range of his understanding, and he is capable of being 
profoundly moved by things of which he has the very 
vaguest intellectual apprehension. Another common 
practice which should be avoided is that of tickling. 
This is undoubtedly a form of sexual stimulation and 
gratification. Young people should not indulge in 
literature or entertainments whose principal appeal is 
to the erotic motive. This does not include merely 
what is commonly recognized as vulgar or immoral. 
Many a novel that ends up with the orthodox wedding 
bells is quite capable of arousing a most powerful 
sexual interest, and not infrequently gives a totally 
false impression of the realities of life. In this respect, 



152 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 

at least, Sir Walter Scott is a more healthy influence for 
the adolescent than Charlotte Bronte. 

The second principle that should be observed is that of 
absolute candour. Evasion, deception and lies should 
be eschewed. It is time the stork and the apple-tree 
were dead, and the doctor's bag buried with them. The 
child's questions should receive simple straightforward 
answers. But there is no need to go beyond what the 
child wants to know. Further, candour does not mean 
bluntness. There is no reason why birth should not 
have its poetry as well as youthful love. But the 
poetry must not conceal the truth, but bring out its 
real beauty. These simple truths should be imparted 
by the parents, preferably by the mother, and no pains 
should be spared on their part to find out the best way 
to carry out this responsibility. It is their sacred duty 
and privilege. If they fail there must always be a gulf 
between them and the children which nothing else can 
bridge. Too often parents have not the slightest idea 
how it should be done. It is as much their business to 
find out as it is to feed and clothe their offspring. 
It must be remembered, too, that it is not merely a 
question of knowledge. Unless birth and love are 
beautiful in their own eyes they cannot make them 
appear beautiful to the young mind, which is keenly 
sensitive to pretence and insincerity. The complexes 
of the parents are " visited upon the children unto the 
third and fourth generations." The only thing to do 
is to get rid of the complex. 

The question as to whether definite sexual instruction 
should be given in schools is a very difficult one. But 
one thing we hold most strongly. We can never regard 
it as a satisfactory state of affairs if such instruction is 
regarded as a substitute for parental. But so many 
parents are so hopelessly incompetent or negligent, or 
both, that it seems almost a necessity to look outside 
the home for any immediate solution of the problem. 
On the other hand it is necessary to ask whether school 



PSYCHO-ANALYSIS AND EDUCATION 153 

teachers as a body are qualified to carry out this delicate 
piece of work. Again we repeat, it is not merely a 
question of knowledge. It is a question of attitude 
and personal fitness. The subject must not be made to 
appear funny to the scholars, as in a case we recently 
heard of, nor should it be made to appear a shameful 
thing. No teacher should be compelled to teach it, 
feeling that it is a distasteful duty that must be got 
through somehow. The solution that appears most 
satisfactory to us is the institution by educational 
authorities of travelling lectureships in " Physical and 
Mental Hygiene." For this purpose teachers should be 
most carefully selected and thoroughly trained in the 
physiology and psychology of sex, as well as in the 
general principles of hygiene. They should visit the 
various schools in their district, not to give lessons on 
this one topic, but they should treat it in its natural 
place in a course of lessons on " The Care of the Body 
and the Mind." The lessons should be given to boys 
and girls separately by members of their own sex. 
If this were thoroughly and wisely carried out we believe 
it would be a great national gain. 

But individual difficulties are likely to arise at 
puberty when the child needs a wise and intimate 
friend. The parents should be ready to fill that need. 

Finally, instruction in these subjects forms but a 
small part of true sexual education, if it is true that sex 
covers the wide field that psycho-analysis has ascribed 
to it. There is the still larger task of sublimation. We 
must now consider this question in more detail. 



5. SUBLIMATION 

Dr. Ernest Jones has given this subject fairly full 
consideration in Chapters XXXV and XXXVII of his 
" Papers on Psycho-analysis/ ' He defines sublimation 



154 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 

in the words of Freud as " the capacity to exchange an 
originally sexual aim for another one which is no longer 
sexual, though it is psychically related." He then 
distinguishes four characteristics of true sublimation. 
In the first place, using our own terminology, it is not 
the substitution of one tendency for another, but 
rather the directing of the original tendency towards 
another, and, more satisfactory end, for instance the 
childish desire to exhibit the body is sublimated into 
the exhibition of prowess in work or in games. Secondly, 
the process is mainly an unconscious one. It may 
sometimes be initiated deliberately, but unless the new 
goal eventually becomes capable of arousing spontaneous 
interest there is no real sublimation. The third fact that 
he points out is that this process takes place chiefly in 
childhood. Hence it is of especial importance to the 
educator. Finally, he reminds the reader that it is not 
sexual interest in the narrower sense of the term, but 
that complex of tendencies with its variety of objects 
and aims as described in the last section of Chapter IV 
of this book. 

In Chapter XXXVII he considers the factors on which 
the process depends. There are three : the strength 
of the original impulse, the force of the repressing 
activity, and the opportunities provided by the environ- 
ment for a transition on to suitable objects. With 
regard to each of these factors there are two things at 
any rate that we need to know. What is the effect 
of each and how far is it accessible to control ? If the 
impulse is too strong it will seek its primitive gratifica- 
tion in spite of every obstacle and every effort at 
sublimation. All that can be done is to avoid 
stimulating it as far as possible. If, for instance, the 
emotional reaction to one or other of the parents is 
excessive, the parent should seek to avoid as far as 
possible arousing that emotion. If this policy is con- 
sistently followed and not too much pressure is exerted 
to bring about the desired change, then the impulse may 



PSYCHO-ANALYSIS AND EDUCATION 155 

be eventually sufficiently weakened to permit of satis- 
factory sublimation. The danger in such cases is that 
a parent, keenly interested in the welfare of the child, 
may be inclined to be over-anxious to expedite the 
process. All too often the child's display of emotion, 
of affection, hostility, or whatever it may be, calls out 
a strong emotional response in the parent which only 
serves to strengthen the impulse. Quietness and 
patience are more needed. Sublimation must have its 
own time. With the second factor, that of repression, 
the greater part of this book has been concerned. If 
it is too strong it may bring about nervous disorders, 
or at any rate compromise or reaction formations, which 
involve a considerable waste of energy in directions 
that are unprofitable to the individual or society. Thus 
repressed exhibitionism may lead to excessive shyness 
or bashfulness, repressed love leads to hate. This 
factor, however, is far more within the control of the 
educator. He can regulate and graduate to a very 
considerable extent the demands that are made upon 
the child. This must be governed by a consideration 
of the individual case, for ordinary observation reveals 
the fact that one child may be more repressed by a word 
than another is by a blow. The demands that are made 
upon the child should be so adjusted that they constitute 
a challenge to his powers, a challenge that he will 
soon learn to find a j oy in meeting. It follows, therefore, 
that the method which seeks to put every child through 
the same stereotyped process must prove unsatis- 
factory. And this is equally true of the third factor, 
the provision of suitable opportunities for the redirect- 
ing of primitive tendencies. If we take two children in 
whom the impulse of curiosity is strong, in the one case 
the impulse may be complicated with other tendencies 
which lead him to find his greatest satisfaction in prying 
into the secrets of mechanical constructions, while 
in the other exploring expeditions may provide a more 
satisfactory outlet for his energies. While it is possible 



156 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 

that our schools might be so organized as to give a 
greater variety of opportunities for sublimation, it is 
evident that they can never be expected to meet fully 
such a tremendous demand. There will always be a 
need for the intelligent co-operation of parents and 
voluntary agencies of divers kinds, such as Boy Scouts, 
Girl Guides, Boys' and Girls' Clubs, etc. The difficulty 
here is that such agencies are too often at the mercy of 
unenlightened enthusiasm. In the case of the Scout 
and Guide movement, this difficulty is largely obviated 
by its organization and methods. 

In connexion with this positive aspect, we must 
emphasize the concluding phrase of the definition of 
sublimation. The secondary object must be 
" psychically related " to the primary object of the 
impulse. If the connexion is too slight then the 
transition will be rendered too difficult or perhaps 
impossible. If the associations are too close, then the 
new object is apt to serve as a reminder of the old one, 
instead of being a way of escape from it. But the most 
the educator can do in this respect is to provide as large 
a variety of " occupation " as is possible, and let the 
child discover his own metier. If this process does not 
develop satisfactorily he should endeavour to discover 
the cause and apply the suitable remedy. Further, 
he should endeavour to show how the child's particular 
interest is linked up with others, so that they may gain 
an attraction which they fail to exert on their own 
account. The boy who is interested in machinery will 
of course, learn that this means he must acquire skill 
with his pencil and in mathematical calculation, etc. 

But when all has been said it is easier to find out by 
analysis why a certain course in sublimation has been 
taken than to predict beforehand what is the most 
likely or the best course for any particular individual. 
We must leave him to work out his own sublimations 
as much as possible, or we shall be in danger of 
perpetuating the state of dependence which it should 



PSYCHO-ANALYSIS AND EDUCATION 157 

be our aim to overcome. We may sum up briefly, then, 
the rules that should guide us in this work. Begin 
early. Avoid as far as possible stimulating impulses 
that are unusually strong. Do not force the pace. 
Give the child as wide a range of choice as circumstances 
will allow. Remember that all children have not the 
same capacity for sublimation. 

When this work is satisfactorily accomplished the 
individual devotes his undivided energies to a worthy 
" life's task." He does not waste his strength in useless 
day-dreams, or stand wavering and irresolute before 
life's demands ; he is not enervated by sentimentality, 
nor are his powers frittered away in petty personal 
resentments ; he is neither obsequious nor overbearing, 
but in fellowship with all free men he marches steadily 
forward towards the goal of his heart's desire. 



CHAPTER VIII 
SOCIETY AND RELIGION 

WE have seen that psycho-analysis is firstly a 
special psychological technique and secondly a 
psychological theory. It will be obvious that 
the technique cannot be applied to a community. We 
cannot submit a Trades Union or a Church to the process 
of free-association, though a great deal could probably 
be learned of the unconscious impulses which provide 
no small part of the dynamic of these social activities, 
if the method could be applied to a sufficient number of 
their members, especially to the leading spirits of these 
movements. Whether this is possible on a sufficiently 
wide scale, the future alone will reveal. The obstacles 
to such an inquiry are enormous and obvious. There 
is no need to dwell on them. On the other hand, the 
insight that has been obtained already into the working 
of the unconscious processes of the individual, may 
reasonably be expected to afford great help to our under- 
standing of the genesis and development of social 
activities. A beginning in this direction has already 
been made. As examples we may mention Freud's 
" Totem and Taboo " in which he endeavours to lay 
bare the mental processes underlying these strange and 
widespread primitive institutions, and the recently 
published " Psycho-analysis and Sociology " in which 
Aurel Kolnai has attempted to discover the hidden 
springs of present-day Anarchist Communism. But the 
work has only just begun and it would be a great mistake, 
in our opinion, either to accept the results of such investi- 
gations as finally established truth, or to disregard them 

158 



SOCIETY AND RELIGION 159 

as worthless generalizations based on insufficient evi- 
dence. Similar work is being done for religious phenom- 
ena by such men as Pfister, Silberer, Reik, Flournoy and 
Morel. The aim of these investigators is to discover the 
hidden psychical springs of social and religious activity. 
But the services of psycho-analysis are not exhausted in 
such investigations. It has its contributions to make to 
social and religious philosophy. It not only helps us to 
understand what has been, and what is, but it cannot be 
ignored when we are considering the question of what 
ought to be. It is from this standpoint that we shall 
consider its value in these departments of human 
interest. What is the nature of the society, and what 
is the nature of the religion which will do justice to the 
ascertained facts of man's unconscious nature ? 

First of all let us recognize that there are no questions 
of human interest that have suffered more at the hands 
of the amateur and the one-sided specialist than the two 
with which we are at present concerned. " The man in 
the street," and the " man in the study," the physicist 
and physiologist, the geographer and economist, the 
biologist and psychologist, have all at different times 
attempted to settle these questions from their own exclu- 
sive points of view. The psycho-analyst in facing these 
problems will do well to be warned by such attempts, 
and avoid the temptation to regard social activity as 
merely the functioning of a great unconscious. Society 
is not to be explained by metaphors and analogies. It 
is something unique and sui generis. It is neither 
mechanism, organism nor mind, but it is an interaction 
of minds in and through an environment, and these 
minds are both conscious and unconscious. All the 
psycho-analyst can legitimately do is to present the 
ascertained facts of man's unconscious nature to the 
social philosopher and leave him to take these into 
account together with other psychological data, as well 
as the relevant physical, economic, and biological facts 
when he is constructing his social theory. If we bear 



160 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 

this clearly in mind we may safely venture outside the 
strictly defined analytical province and indulge in social 
speculation which we must leave the social philosopher 
to evaluate and assimilate as best he can. 

In a similar way he may consider the bearing of this 
theory on religious problems, leaving the final synthesis 
to the philosopher of religion. If the reader feels that 
this attitude is somewhat vague and evasive, let it be 
remembered how much wasted effort and disillusion- 
ment have been due to over hasty, dogmatic generaliza- 
tions. We are always striving for finality in thought 
and security in religion, but the best we can attain is 
fertility and salvation. May it not be, that after all, 
these are the greater things ? At any rate it is for 
this attitude that we venture to ask the reader's 
sympathy. 



I. THE SOCIAL IDEAL 

The first question we shall venture to consider from 
this standpoint is the nature of an ideal society. The 
answer of psycho-analysis is : a society that is free 
from neuroticism, a community, the behaviour of whose 
members is guided by the reality principle and not 
dominated by the pleasure-pain principle. But it may 
be objected that many of our greatest poets and artists 
have been neurotics. Are we to sacrifice the possibilities 
of art and literature to the dream of a peaceful but 
mediocre society ? To this it may be replied that a 
number of artists have been analysed with no discern- 
ible trace of deteriorating effect upon their work, and 
that what art would lose in passion and tragic power, it 
would probably more than make up in serenity and joy. 
At any rate, a neurotic society is a tremendous price 
to pay for the poet and the artist. 

If we accept this aim — the elimination of the neurotic 
element from the community — as, at any rate, a possible 



SOCIETY AND RELIGION 161 

goal, what does it demand in the social constitution ? 
What can be done in the way of prevention, and what is 
necessary for cure ? 

We have seen already that according to psycho- 
analysis the chief incubator for nervous disorders is the 
home, 1 that the most important factor in the home is, 
usually, the mother, then the father and the rest of the 
family. From our point of view the supreme concern 
of the society is to produce psychically healthy parents, 
and, above all, mothers who are mentally sound. Fret- 
ful, worrying, nagging, obstinate, harsh or over-indul- 
gent parents cannot but exercise a baneful influence 
upon their children. Must we then abolish family life ? 
No doubt there are many cases where that is the only 
remedy. Parents who are totally incapable of exercis- 
ing the parental functions should have their children 
taken away. As examples, we may mention alcoholic, 
immoral and brutal parents. But when all is said, 
there is no institution so good as a good home. Especi- 
ally in the earlier years is it important. The best nurse 
and the wisest teacher are never able to make up for 
the lack of a good father and mother. 

How then, shall society tackle the problem of improving 
itself in this respect ? No doubt if psycho-analysis 
fulfils the hopes of its early apostles a great deal will be 
done through sound psychological treatment. But this 
will not be sufficient of itself. A readjustment of social 
relations and a reorganization of social activities are 
imperative. And in so far as the psychological treat- 
ment is effective it will hasten the time when these 
changes will be inevitable. The problem seems capable 
of being attacked from two directions, either by 
individual psychological treatment or by social re- 
adjustment. The most desirable course is that both 
methods should be used. The question for us here is — 

1 We are leaving out of consideration here the difficult eugenic 
problem of the need or desirability of the elimination of those 
strains which produce the " neurotic egg." 
II 



162 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 

what is the nature of the social readjustment which is 
necessary to enable parents to exercise a healthy, 
spiritual influence over their children ? 

In Chapter IV we saw that there are three factors at 
work according to Freud in every neurosis, congenital 
endowment, failure to sublimate sexual impulses, and 
current conflict. With regard to the first factor all 
we shall say is, that only in the worst cases should 
measures be adopted to prevent the perpetuation of the 
stirps in which such defects are found. As long as the 
individual is capable of taking his place in society and 
does not need to be restrained it is rather to psycholo- 
gical treatment we should look than to measures of 
prohibition and prevention. The problem of the ment- 
ally defective is, of course, quite different. 

With reference to the second factor it will be remem- 
bered that sublimation takes place chiefly in childhood 
and that the main determinant outside of the child mind 
itself is the parent. We must begin with the neurotic- 
ally inclined parent. The most satisfactory thing to do 
would be to resolve those fundamental conflicts which 
are the ultimate cause of the trouble. But something 
may be done to reduce the occasions of current conflict 
which are often the preliminary skirmishes before the 
bigger battle. It is here that social readjustment may 
be most helpful. If this appears to be demanding a 
very drastic remedy to secure only a relatively superficial 
improvement it should be remembered that if the 
neurotic element is ever eradicated from society, these 
social changes are bound to come in the end, for strange 
as it may seem, both the stability and the instability 
of the present social order are dependent in no small 
measure upon neurotic transferences. If there is any 
reliability to be placed upon the findings of psycho- 
analysis then both the docility and the intractability 
of the employee are " transferences " of the different 
father-attitudes to the employer or capitalist. In the 
same way the benevolent paternalism or stern despotism 



SOCIETY AND RELIGION 163 

of the employer is explained as an identification with 
similar father-images. "Ina study of social unrest we 
shall find that the conduct of the labouring classes 
possesses in periods of unrest all the characteristics of 
that of an individual revolting under the influence of a 
repressed complex, all the quality of the behaviour of 
a neurotic son of a stern, unbending father. The atti- 
tude of the employer towards labour is also frequently 
the result of a pathological reaction due to subconscious 
fear." 1 From the standpoint of living the full life 
of a man, the labourer is just as right in his objection to 
well-meant paternalism as to over-bearing despotism. 
He has as much right to object to being bathed and taken 
out to play as to being told how he must vote at an elec- 
tion. Psycho-analysis emphasizes the fundamental 
right of a man to be treated as a man, and the equally 
fundamental duty of every man to be, not a slave, a 
fawner, a rebel, a demi-god, a wet-nurse, but a man. 
Why should a labourer who is making a contract to sell 
his labour be treated differently from a proprietor who is 
contracting to sell his land ? The answer that the 
labourer would not understand civil treatment or would 
take advantage of it, if true, only confirms the conten- 
tion with regard to him, and if untrue, proves our thesis 
with respect to the employer. For ourselves we believe 
the evidence points unmistakably to the conclusion that 
capitalist and employer are as much the victims of 
unconscious mechanism as those they employ. The 
conclusion of our argument is this — that when the slave 
or rebel through some transformation becomes a man, 
he will expect and demand to be treated as a man. 
Social relations will have to be adjusted to that claim. 
We can hasten that transformation by the gradual 
adjustment of the present relations to that anticipated 
demand. The first principle of our ideal society then 
is this. Treat every man with respect till he makes it 

1 Frank Watts. " Psychological Problems of Industry." 
1921. Allen & Unwin. 



164 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 

an impossibility. 1 Treat no man with anything more 
than respect till he becomes something more than man. 8 
This does not mean, of course, that the judgment of 
an expert in his own department should be valued at 
the same level as that of a mere smatterer. But it 
does mean that because a man is versed in the intricacies 
of high finance he has not thereby a right to expect any 
other man to play the part of " flunky." It is the failure 
to act on this first principle that perpetuates and aggra- 
vates in society the complexes that originated in the 
home. 

The second principle of reconstruction is still more 
directly concerned with the third factor of the neurosis 
— the current conflict. It is this. Every man should 
have the opportunity to be a man. At present he is 
frequently little more than a cog in a wheel, a machine 
minder, a barrow pusher, a sledge swinger. The work 
in which the greater part of his working moments is 
occupied gives little or no scope for the satisfaction of 
that wonderful complex of instincts and impulses with 
which he is endowed. He is spiritually starved. Is it 
any wonder that he becomes a hungry rebel or a spirit- 
less slave, or takes to drink as his only hope ? The 
only interest he has in his work is the economic interest. 
The rest all too often is dull, dreary drudgery. Is it 
not hopeless to expect a man working under such con- 
ditions to manifest an altruism and a far-sighted 
concern for the welfare of the community which has 
only considered him in so far as it has been compelled 
by the force of his Trade Union ? The point we wish 
to emphasize is this : that the economic issue which is 
so much to the fore in the present day is, no doubt, a 
real issue, it is almost the only conscious issue, but it is 
not the only issue. The reason for its overwhelming 
predominance is that industry has so evolved as to 

1 The case of the " impossible " man is treated later. 

2 Respect does not exclude the sentiment of " love," but only 
its " sentimentality." 



SOCIETY AND RELIGION 165 

repress in a vast number of cases every other interest, 
and the discontent a man feels with the monotony of his 
work is vented in a claim for higher wages. The claim 
for a share on the part of the worker in the control of the 
industry is apparently the war-cry of a few rather than 
the demand of the many. And it is very probable that 
this demand is largely motived by a desire to get a 
bigger cash return for labour. In so far as it is inspired 
by a genuine desire to humanize industry we are bound 
to sympathize with it as an ideal even if we think it 
impracticable as a programme. 1 And it is not only 
of the workers that it is true that the economic interest 
is almost the exclusive conscious issue, it is still more 
true of the multitude of shareholders who are concerned 
only with dividends. 

When we take all the facts into consideration we shall 
not be surprised at the case cited by Ordway Tead in 
his " Instincts in Industry." " One successful depart- 
ment store in a large Eastern city is in charge of a man 
who is really admired by his employees. To this 
manager, who really wants to run his store on genuinely 
democratic lines, the subservience of the workers is a 
constant source of irritation. He stands up in meetings 
of the store employees and berates them soundly for 
their lack of initiation and aggressiveness. The spec- 
tacle of this gentleman belabouring the workers about 
their reluctance to assume leadership and responsibility 
is one to make the student of industrial democracy 
ponder and inquire more deeply into the psychological 
springs of action. Such a phenomenon, however, 
presents no difficulties when we bear in mind the history 
of the average working man and woman. From the 
earliest days, curiosity and enterprise are repressed in the 
home and the child's difficulties solved for him because 
it is the quickest way out of the trouble ; the process of 
repression is carried a step further by the discipline of 

1 We do not say that it is impracticable. Only a fair and 
prolonged trial can demonstrate this. 



166 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 

the school, so that by the time a boy goes out to work it 
is almost a miracle if he can think and plan for himself. 
What we need is an educational and industrial system 
which will give scope and stimulus for all the varied 
impulses of man. It is doubtful whether modern in- 
dustry as a whole can be organized in such a manner as 
to provide this. Then its demands should be reduced 
to an absolute and bare minimum that a man may be 
able to find in some other activity the scope and inspira- 
tion that his daily work denies. A possible alternative 
might be the reorganization of society on the basis of 
the " village community " as suggested by Plelding Hall 
in his book called " The Way of Peace." No doubt 
there are many difficulties in the way of such schemes. 
We are not concerned here to advocate any particular 
plan but to emphasize the necessity, not merely of a 
man's right to work, but of a man's right to be a man. 
If we cannot devise a social order which will provide this 
opportunity, then it seems clear to us that our society is 
doomed to neurotic disintegration. The history of the 
last seven years should be sufficient to give even the most 
sceptical pause ere he flings out the taunt, Cassandra ! 

We cannot leave this question of the provision of 
opportunity for every man to realize the full legitimate 
satisfaction of his nature without special reference to 
that system of impulses with which psycho-analysis is 
specially concerned — the sexual. Side by side with the 
trend of modern industry towards ever-increasing 
division of labour with its consequent exclusive em- 
phasis on the economic aspect, there has been a growing 
tendency to postpone the marriage age. This most 
powerful instinct is baulked of legitimate expression, 
and, at the same time, its opportunities of sublimation 
have been drastically curtailed by the stereotyping 
of human activity. The consequences are all but 
inevitable, — deep-seated unrest and wide-spread im- 
morality. There are three possibilities with regard to 
this instinct, — direct indulgence, sublimated satisfaction 



SOCIETY AND RELIGION 167 

and repression. If the possibilities of sublimation are 
practically non-existent, then there is nothing left but 
the choice between two evils. We do not wish to 
convey the impression that we regard marriage merely 
as legalized indulgence of crude passion, but there can be 
no doubt that it tends to become that, in so far as men 
and women are denied the opportunities of living a full 
and varied life. Just as society, by the course of develop- 
ment it has followed, has made money the supreme 
concern of industry, and mere pleasure the main demand 
in recreation, so it tends to make love very little more 
than lust. It is quite possible that the postponement 
of marriage would have meant, as in many cases it has 
meant, a spiritual enrichment of human life, if there 
had been a widening of the scope of creative activity. 
Mere mechanical routine cannot provide channels for 
sublimation. There must be scope for individual self- 
expression, a self-expression that is not mere eccen- 
tricity, but a joyous contribution towards the fellowship 
of the community. The work of the individual must 
bear the indelible mark of individuality, but it must 
have more than that, or it is a mere miser's hoard. 
There must be the feeling that it is mine, yet not mine. 
Whether it is possible to organize society so that the 
individual may find room for such creative activity, is 
another question. At any rate it will be impossible as 
long as the merely economic issue is allowed to dominate 
the situation. 

The third principle of reconstruction is that every 
parent should be a parent and not merely an instrument 
of reproduction. It is true that most parents also 
provide food and shelter for their children. But if it is 
true that the influence of parent upon child is as powerful 
as it appears, then we are very largely wasting or mis- 
using an enormous power for the shaping of our 
social destinies. It is evident that before a father can 
be a real father he must be a real man, not merely the 
baulked possibility of one. But it should also be evident 



168 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 

that he cannot exercise his functions in absentia. We 
have cursed the evils of the " absentee landlord," 
occasionally, we have lamented the evils of the " ab- 
sentee mother," but apparently the absence of the father 
does not matter or is regarded as a final inevitability. 
It is, of course, inevitable in the majority of cases, under 
present conditions, and possibly in view of the fact 
that so often life has narrowly circumscribed his interests 
it does not, as things are, greatly matter. It may be 
arguable that his absence is even desirable, for his role in 
too many families is that of arch-represser. But in so 
far as these things are true it constitutes a terrible 
indictment of our society. What is needed is not merely 
more idle, leisure time, in which the father can nurse the 
baby or romp with the older children, but new activities 
in which the children can take an interest and an active 
share. A larger life, and a life in which the children can 
play their part, is absolutely necessary if the functions 
of the father are to be satisfactorily fulfilled. And if 
this is true with respect to the father, it is not less true 
with respect to the mother. How can we expect a 
woman absorbed all day long with the routine of house- 
hold duties, and obsessed with household cares to 
exercise a healthy influence on her children. The 
bickering, nagging, quarrelling of family life are all 
symptoms of neurotic tendencies. For the most part 
we try to shut our eyes to it and indulge in compensatory 
phantasies of happy, home life, or else we regard it as 
inevitable, and get away to the club as quickly as 
possible. But the average housewife has no such 
escape. She must submit and endure. It is an absolute 
necessity that the mothers of our country should have 
the opportunity of a wider life. We have put this 
requirement last, but in any programme of reconstruction 
there is no doubt that it should come first. 

In conclusion, we would remind the reader that the 
foregoing suggestions are merely what appear to us the 
obvious corollaries of the facts that psycho-analysis has 



SOCIETY AND RELIGION 169 

revealed. They are submitted for criticism. If any- 
thing survives, that residue must be taken into account 
with all the other facts that concern the problem of 
human society. The principles we have enumerated are 
these. We must begin with the home. Every man 
should be a man and be treated as a man. Every man 
should have the opportunities of being a man. 
Every parent should have the opportunities of 
exercising the full functions of a parent. Before 
such principles are described as visionary and 
incapable of practical application, let the accuser 
be sure that he is free from unconscious bias, and 
that "inner resistance" which "doth so easily beset 
us." If the changes that are involved appear 
revolutionary, let it not be thought that we are 
advocating revolution. Revolution is but another 
neurotic symptom. The need is for steady, rational 
advance. 



2. SOCIAL MISFITS 

We have very briefly considered what is demanded by 
the nature of man's unconscious tendencies in an ideal 
society, and we have laid down the principle that every 
man should be treated as a man as long as that is 
possible. The question we must now consider is — what 
should be done when this stage is reached ? We will 
consider two instances, which will illustrate, as it seems 
to us, the attitude in which psycho-analysis indicates 
that this question should be faced — the problem of the 
unemployed and the problem of the criminal. 

With regard to the latter it will be readily, all too 
readily recognized, that he cannot be treated as a man. 
He is a menace to society, and must be punished, or at 
least restrained. With regard to the former, it will, 
perhaps, be indignantly denied that it is as impossible 
to treat the unemployed as a man. We are not con- 



170 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 

cerned to argue about the abstract question of possibili- 
ties in this connexion. The fact is that he is not usually 
so regarded. In times of good trade he is regarded with 
suspicion. He would not be out of work it is thought, 
if there were not some deficiency of character, ability, 
or physique. In times of bad trade he is regarded 
probably with some measure of pity as the victim of 
misfortune. But neither suspicion nor pity have any 
place in that respect to which a normal man is 
entitled. The fact is that the unemployed is not a 
normal man, he is only the potentiality of a man. We 
may abandon him and let him die, we may feed him and 
turn him into a parasite, or we may provide work for 
him and an opportunity to achieve his rightful status. 
But as long as he is ignored, pampered or pitied, he is 
denied, rightly or wrongly, the regard which is the sine 
qua non of full manhood. 

The problem of " unemployment " is exceedingly 
complicated, and all that we may be expected to do is to 
point out some of the factors of human nature that must 
be taken into consideration in any attempted solution. 
First of all, we would issue a warning against the 
tendency of interested parties to enunciate economic laws 
as though they were divine fiats which require nothing 
but unquestioning obedience. There can be little 
doubt that all too often this talk about " economic 
law " is merely a rationalization to cover up the ugly 
motives of greed and suspicion. We need to inquire 
with strict impartiality as to the truth of the accusation 
that " economics " is being exploited in the interests 
of a capitalist class, and we need to recognize that if 
this evil does exist, it is not to be corrected by a mere 
change of the class. " Class consciousness " is a social 
neurosis. It can never be the basis of a stable social 
order. It is the product of repression, of an inferiority 
complex. It is a denial of the fundamental principle 
that a man shall be treated as a man. At the same 
time we must bear in mind that it is little more than a 



SOCIETY AND RELIGION 171 

waste of breath to condemn " class consciousness," we 
must strive to understand the conditions that have 
produced it, and remove the repressions in the home and 
in the community which lie at its root. We must 
remember, too, that it is not a monopoly of one section 
of the community. There is more than one " class." 

Here, as in the case of individual mental disorders, 
the prime need is for insight, but here as there, that 
insight is often but superficial because of the resistance 
of dynamic unconscious factors. Greed, fear, and 
mental inertia, prevent us from seeing the truth. At 
the present moment we are confronted with this situa- 
tion. There is a great need for food, clothes and houses, 
and yet there are hundreds of thousands of people doing 
nothing. Why ? We cannot put the blame on nature 
in spite of the fact that there has been a certain amount 
of drought. We are bound to recognize that the main 
fault belongs to human nature. If it were true that 
nature had failed, then that is all the more reason why 
we should be diligent in trying to compensate for it. 
The facts seem clear, that it is either that these unem- 
ployed are not being allowed to work, they are being 
refused access to the land, or hampered by trade regula- 
tions, or they are incapable of adapting themselves to 
doing such work as is needed. We need to recognize 
that the " land question " is not merely an economic 
question, it is a psychological question too. The motives 
that lead men to acquire land and cling to it, land that 
they cannot use themselves, land from which they 
possibly derive relatively little profit, need to be 
examined. It will probably be found that " land 
hunger " is in many cases as pathological as sabotage. 
If the first principle which we have laid down is sound, 
benevolent administration is not a sufficient justification 
for great accumulations of wealth in land or any other 
form. Benevolence, that perpetuates the feeling of 
inferiority and dependence in its objects, is not a virtue 
but a vice. But there is not only a psychological 



172 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 

difficulty in getting access to the raw material of labour, 
there is a psychological difficulty in adapting the avail- 
able labour, to the tasks that are waiting to be done. 
Food is needed, but the dock labourer will not, or 
cannot put his hand to the plough, and the city clerk 
will not, or cannot turn herdsman even supposing he 
got the chance. There is a lack of adaptability which 
goes deeper than the mere question of vocational train- 
ing. The problem of individual lack of adaptability is 
further complicated by the rigidity of socially organized 
interests. We need houses, but more energy has been 
spent and wasted in discussing the problem of " dilution" 
than has been put into actual building. There can be 
no doubt that Trades Unions are an obstacle in some 
ways to industrial adaptation. We are not condemning 
Trades Unions. They are symptoms of a social neurosis, 
defence-mechanisms brought about by industrial repres- 
sion. The doctor does not waste breath in condemning 
symptoms, but looks for the cause. 

There are then two psychological requirements 
which must be satisfied before we can hope for any 
permanent settlement of unemployment. First we 
must cease to regard the wealthy man as something 
more than man, and we must cease to regard the poor 
man as something less than man. A tendency towards 
a more just distribution would soon make itself felt. 
Secondly we must see that our school education and 
industrial training develop adaptability, so that labour 
can adapt itself to human need. It should be clearly 
understood that it is not maintained that this is all that 
is necessary for^a solution of the problem. It is not 
even contended that such an ideal is fully attainable. 
All that we can infer, from such evidence as psycho- 
analysis affords, is that no solution will be entirely 
satisfactory that excludes these elements. 

Many other problems besides that of " unemploy- 
ment " are clamouring for an answer. It is not possible 
here even to mention them. We will refer to one other 



SOCIETY AND RELIGION 173 

only, as an illustration of the bearing of our study upon 
social life, the problem of the criminal. It is no exag- 
geration to say, that until comparatively recent years 
the policy of society towards the criminal was dictated 
mainly by mingled hate and fear. Retribution and 
prevention through fear, were the dominating ideas. 
But as L. T. Hobhouse in his " Morals in Evolution," 
says, " The criminal, too, has his rights — the right to 
be punished, but so punished that he may be helped in 
the path of reform." But even though these rights be 
denied, even if it is asserted that the criminal has out- 
lawed himself from society, which alone confers rights, 
even if we ignore the part and responsibility of society 
in producing the criminal and bluntly assert that it is 
the first concern of society to maintain its own physical, 
mental and moral integrity, even then we may well 
inquire whether our methods are the best possible for 
securing this end. It is true that during the last half 
century there has been a very gratifying and large 
decrease in the amount of imprisonment and consider- 
able improvement in the methods of treating prisoners, 
but still we have to recognize that in a great number, 
if not in the vast majority of cases, the effect is either 
to harden the offender or to break his spirit. Is this 
necessary ? 

The whole problem has two main issues — prevention 
and cure. But with regard to both issues our attitude 
should be the same — first and foremost, a determination 
to get at the facts. Modern medicine has abandoned 
the method of prescribing without diagnosis, and it is 
not content with removing symptoms and pains, it seeks 
to abolish the cause of these troubles. This must be 
our attitude. We spend a great deal of money and 
time and brains in repressing crime. Our strongest men 
are made policemen, our cleverest men are made lawyers 
and judges. But would it not be a wise and desirable 
thing to devote more of this wealth and wisdom to the 
task of discovering what are the factors that produce 



174 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 

the criminal, and what is the best way to eliminate 
them. At present our almost sole concern is to prove 
that a certain offence has been committed by a certain 
person. The treatment of the offender is then pres- 
cribed more or less rigidly by a law that utterly ignores 
the personality of the wrong-doer. What latitude of 
prescription is allowed, is in the hands of a magistrate 
who is usually appointed on the grounds of his social, 
municipal or political standing, or by a judge because 
of his acquaintance with the intricacies of modern law. 
Insight into human nature is not regarded as necessary, 
and where it happens to be possessed its exercise is 
narrowly circumscribed by the enactments of the law. 
In the case of young and first offenders this state of 
things has been to some extent remedied. More care 
has been exercised in the appointment of suitable 
magistrates and more latitude is allowed in treatment. 
But the objection to this course is that it leaves too 
much to the intuition of the individual. We are not 
prepared as a rule to submit our serious bodily ailments 
to the untutored intuitions of the amateur. Is it not 
reasonable, therefore, that we should demand that in 
dealing with social evils, intuition should be grounded in 
experience and training ? Our magistrates and judges 
should be required to have a certain amount of training 
in sociology and psychology and have experts in these 
subjects to give advice whenever needed. It should 
be their aim in dealing with any particular case, not 
merely to consider whether the prisoner is guilty, but 
how far it is possible to rectify the defective character 
that is responsible for the offence. There is no doubt 
that in this connexion, psycho-analysis could render 
valuable service especially with the young miscreants. 

But still more important is the problem of discovering 
the conditions that produce defective characters. A 
careful and thorough investigation of the subject on a 
wider scale than has yet been attempted is necessary. 
The problem may be considered from many points of 



SOCIETY AND RELIGION 175 

view, such as the biological, taking into account heredity 
and environment, or the economical taking into account 
the factor of wealth, or the physiological which con- 
siders the effect of bodily functions, but ultimately the 
question must become a psychological one because it is 
only as these factors work through the mind that they 
can affect character. But psycho-analysis suggests that 
the most fruitful method of inquiry will be through the 
careful study of the individual. Mass statistics may be 
useful, but they will be very misleading if they are not 
interpreted in the light of wide experience with the real 
man. What we need to discover is the relevant factors 
and these can only be found in the careful study of the 
body and mind of the individual. It is obvious, for 
instance, that the effect of wealth or poverty is by no 
means constant. In the same way, measures of pre- 
vention, which rely upon the stimulation of fear, are 
very variable in their results. What would crush one 
individual, only rouses the fighting spirit of another. 
A month's hard labour may stain one man's life with 
indelible disgrace, it may render another a hero in his 
own eyes and those of his associates. These are facts 
obvious in our ordinary experience, but the law takes 
very little cognizance of them. It cannot. We cannot 
legislate for individuals. When we come to the deeper 
unconscious impulses and their effects in the production 
of crime, we are still further from doing justice to the 
complexities of human nature. Here we can only look 
to the fuller development of psychological science to 
help us. It is not much use punishing an individual for 
acts that are due to unconscious compulsion. It is 
neither just nor wise. 

The problem is exceedingly complex. But we 
suggest that if the attitude towards the delinquent were 
less judicial and more remedial, this in itself would have 
its preventive value. It would lessen the hypnotic 
effects of fear which impels some natures to do the for- 
bidden thing, and it would take away the romance of 



176 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 

being a swashbuckling villain from another type, if he 
were regarded not as a rebel, but as a sick man. Doubt- 
less there would be some attempts at malingering and 
pretence, but this is fairly easy for the skilled and 
practised expert to expose. The procedure then, 
which in the light of our present knowledge seems most 
desirable, would be something after this fashion. Where 
there was any possible doubt or denial that a particular 
offence had been committed by the person charged, the 
evidence should be examined in the usual way by a 
judicial court, and if the charge were proved, the offender 
should be handed over for expert physical and mental 
examination, to discover to what extent the action was 
due to physiological factors or mental complexes. If 
such conditions were revealed and the expert were satis- 
fied that remedial measures were possible, then the 
option should be given to the offender to submit to these 
or return for sentence to the judicial court. Where 
no definite judgment could be formed as to the possibili- 
ties of remedial efforts, a report with recommendations 
for treatment should be sent back with the offender to 
the president of the judicial court, whose business it 
should be to take into consideration in passing judgment, 
the interests of society, as well as the recommendations 
of the expert. As for the expense involved, we believe 
that the community would find that prevention is 
cheaper than cure, and cure cheaper than punishment. 
At any rate it would be worth while making experiments 
in this direction especially in the children's courts. 
In the case of the more serious offences, it would 
obviously be necessary that such remedial measures 
should be prescribed, as would not expose the com- 
munity to the depredations of the unsocialized 
individual. 

In conclusion we would emphasize that we are not 
concerned so much with the advocacy of specific reforms 
as to appeal for a new attitude to the problem, an atti- 
tude which would make judicial and moral judgment 



SOCIETY AND RELIGION 177 

dependent upon sound psychological insight. And this 
insight we believe is not to be obtained if the unconscious 
factor is ignored. Hence the value of psycho-analysis 
in dealing with this phase of human life. 



3. THE RELIGIOUS IDEAL 

If social philosophy is a realm of debate and wide 
divergencies, religion is not less so, but perhaps more. 
We cannot hope to avoid collision with some of the con- 
tending interests. But we shall endeavour to approach 
this question in the same way as we have dealt with the 
problems of education and society. We shall accept 
the religious spirit as a fact, and consider what guidance 
psycho-analysis has to offer, leaving it to the religious 
mind to criticize and assimilate as best it can. At the 
same time we confess for ourselves a keen sympathy 
with the late Dr. J. J. Putnam, of whom Jones says, 
" He maintained that it was highly desirable, if not 
absolutely essential, to widen the base of psycho- 
analytical principles by incorporating into them certain 
philosophical views especially concerning the relation- 
ship of the individual to the community at large and to 
the universe in general. For years he maintained a 
steady correspondence with me on this question, and I 
fear it was a genuine disappointment to him that his 
views made so little impression on his psycho-analytical 
colleagues." 1 We are prepared to go further than 
this first statement about Putnam goes, and say that 
no psycho-analyst, indeed no scientist of any kind can 
proceed without assuming, wittingly or unwittingly, 
critically or uncritically, some philosophical principles. 
We admit that the findings of any science must not be 
prejudiced by a priori considerations. Its method of 
procedure may be subjected to philosophic criticism, 

1 Obituary by Dr. E. Jones in " Addresses on P. A.," by 
J. J. Putnam, p. 463. 

12 



178 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 

but once it is accepted it must be left to make its own 
discoveries, which philosophy must accept and synthesize 
with its other data as far as it is able. But as it 
appears to us, psycho-analysis is more than a scientific 
procedure. It is that first of all if it has any justifica- 
tion at all. But it is more. It is a therapeutic art. 
If, as Jones repeatedly says, the neurosis is a form of 
social maladaptation, it seems to us impossible for the 
analyst to carry on his therapeutic efforts without having 
some conception of what the relation of the individual 
to the community ought to be. In holding such a con- 
ception, he must transcend the limitations of an empirical 
science. We believe there should be a healthy 
interaction between science and philosophy. In the 
present state of things we cannot expect to effect a 
perfectly harmonious synthesis, but it is only by 
attempting the synthesis that we can discover the 
defects. To attempt to keep the two subjects in abso- 
lute isolation, seems to indicate a dissociation and repres- 
sion which we should have thought would have rendered 
it suspect to every psycho-analyst. 

Dr. Pfister in "The Psycho-Analytic Method," to 
which Freud has contributed an introduction says, 
" Psycho-analysis in no way violates the claims of the 
truth of the Christian religion as such. Of course, as 
already noticed, it destroys many spurious religious 
experiences by showing the illusory complex-function 
at the bottom of these. It must do this in order to 
banish misfortune. It would be all too small for 
Christianity to think that harm is to be feared for its 
future from analysis. . . . Psycho-analysis also teaches 
us to estimate the value of religion anew. I confess 
that the beauty and the blessing of a healthy, ethically 
pure piety have only become overwhelmingly clear to 
me from the investigations here described. Religion, 
in favourable cases, guards the libido repelled by the 
rude, avaricious reality, against conversion into 
hysterical, physical symptoms and against introversion 



SOCIETY AND RELIGION 179 

into anxiety, melancholia, obsessional phenomena, etc." 1 
Dr. Rivers in his John Rylands Lecture on " Medicine 
and Religion " sees in the recent development of psycho- 
logical medicine, of which psycho-analysis is the out 
standing feature, a new possibility of co-operation 
between these two old, but now separated, friends. 
There are dangers, of course, that one should attempt to 
tyrannize over the other. These must be carefully 
watched. In a recent lecture by Dr. Hadfield on " The 
Ethical Significance of the New Psychology " the writer 
sat near a clergyman who whispered, as the exposition 
proceeded, "It sounds like the seventh chapter of 
Romans." This classical exposition of spiritual con- 
flict is well known. But it is possible to trace resembl- 
ances not so obvious as this outstanding one. Paul's 
conception of the " flesh " has close affinities with 
Freud's " libido," possibly more than with Jung's 
conception of this " psychic energy." 2 To regard the 
" flesh " as a physical thing, or merely physical thing, 
is a misinterpretation. In the following chapter he 
speaks of the " mind of the flesh." Sin is the outcome 
of the " flesh " in conflict with the " law." In the final 
synthesis or sublimation, conflict and repression are 
done away. " There is therefore now no condemnation 
to them that are in Christ Jesus." Pfister also quotes 
Freud, Stekel and Jung on the place of religion as a factor 
in healthy mental life. Freud refers to the " extraordin- 
ary increase of neuroses since the decline of religion," 
and Jung says " In a time, when a great part of humanity 
is beginning to deny Christianity, it is well worth while 
to perceive clearly why it has really been accepted. It 
has been accepted to escape eventually the grossness of 
antiquity. If we lay it aside, then the unbridled licence 
is already at hand, of which life in modern large cities 
gives us an impressive foretaste. The step thither is 
not progress but a retrogression." It needs in our 

1 Published by Kegan Paul, p. 412. 
* See page 93 of this book. 



180 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 

opinion, no strained exegesis to see that many of the 
principles which we have endeavoured to expound in 
the earlier pages of this book are exemplified in the 
practice and method of Jesus as He is portrayed in the 
Gospels. The Churches have emphasized the import- 
ance of faith, but if the Gospels are carefully read, we 
believe it will become clear that Jesus emphasized also 
the importance of " insight." " Ye shall know the 
truth and the truth shall make you free " is a statement 
of the fourth Gospel, but it is reiterated in different 
forms in the Synoptics. As it appears to us, the key to 
at any rate one aspect of His teaching lies in the words 
" It is given unto you to know the mysteries of the King- 
dom of heaven, but unto them it is not given." When 
it is remembered that this was the explanation of His 
parabolic method of teaching, it cannot be denied that 
the right interpretation of such a passage is of the 
greatest importance for a right understanding of His 
aim. The whole evidence of the documents is against 
the idea that He reserved for a select coterie, an initiation 
into a kind of Eleusinian mystery. On the other hand, 
there is considerable evidence to show that He realized 
as keenly as any modern psycho-analyst the importance 
of the affective processes for right thinking and real 
insight. See for example Matt. xiii. The whole idea is 
summed up in the beatitude, " Blessed are the pure in 
heart, for they shall see God." His words on the family 
relationship have constituted a difficulty for many 
believers, but they receive new illumination in the light 
of these studies. The way He drew to Himself the affec- 
tions and indeed the whole emotional life of His disciples 
and then in the end told them, " It is expedient for you 
that I go away " indicates something that is not so very 
distantly analogous to the analyst's method of " trans- 
ference " and the " overcoming of resistance." But 
we must leave this question to the reader who i? 
interested to work out for himself. 
There are many religious practices and conceptions 



SOCIETY AND RELIGION 181 

which afford striking and obvious parallels with the 
analytic method. Confession and catharsis have evi- 
dently close connexion. We need to remember, how- 
ever, that catharsis is not the confession of offences, but 
the evocation of memories or phantasies that have been 
forgotten because they were disapproved. Penitence 
and abreaction have resemblances, but the latter is a 
wider term and has not necessarily any ethical implica- 
tions. Faith and transference have undoubtedly close 
connexions. Indeed, it would probably be asserted by 
most analysts that it is the transference of the emotional 
life of the individual on to some ideal object. The 
object of the physician when the emotional energies 
have been transferred to him is to get them redirected 
towards reality. The essential requirement in faith is 
evidently then, that if it is possible, in its object, the ideal 
and the real should be reconciled. We have examples of 
this, interpreting " ideal " in its psychological sense, 
in the man who devotes himself to science, interpreting 
it in its ethical sense, we may cite the individual whose 
energies are absorbed in a sound moral purpose. 

But religion, if it is to find any justification and place 
in modern life, must involve more than this. It must 
be, potentially at least, an all-embracing synthesis, not 
merely of ideas but of all human interests. In actual 
fact, the reconciliations we achieve are full of defects, 
and religious faith in many instances is only possible by 
the creation of " water-tight compartments " in the 
mind, which involves some measure of mental dissocia- 
tion. But the religion that rests upon such dissocia- 
tion is merely an attempt to escape from reality, it is a 
phantasy creation which, no matter how beautiful, 
psycho-analysis must pronounce to be neurotic. The 
apparently irreconcilable elements must not be ignored, 
but faced. The essence of a sound religious faith is 
that it faces the world of discord and conflict with an 
assurance that these disharmonies can be resolved. Its 
ideal is not a flight from the real, but is discovered 



182 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 

within the real. The real contains at least the pos- 
sibility of the ideal, if not the conditions of its inevitable 
achievement. To the fulfilment of that possibility the 
religious spirit gives its undivided allegiance and energy. 
Such it seems to us is the corollary of psycho-analysis 
with regard to its application to the religious life. It 
is not within its province to say that such a condition of 
things actually holds, but in the light of its discoveries 
up to the present, it is apparently entitled to say that, 
if it does not, then man is inextricably entangled within 
the net of mental conflict, and he can only escape from 
the realm of discord by seeking a refuge in phantasy. 
It is possible to hold that the disharmonies are unreal, 
mere illusions, that the individual has merely to shed his 
illusions and he will perceive that the real is the ideal. 
This is not the place to consider such a view in detail. 
All we need say is, that the problem is not fundamentally 
altered by calling evil, or discord, an illusion. The 
illusion at any rate is real and admittedly evil. The 
problem remains. 

A second inference we may draw from these studies 
is, that the nature of Reality should not destroy the 
independence of the individual. We are here faced with 
what appears to be an ultimate spiritual antimony. 
The individual is evidently dependent upon Reality ; 
he is the product of an evolutionary process. But 
unless, in the evolution of personality, man has secured 
some measure of real independence, then the whole 
psycho-analytic procedure is a vain delusion. We are 
trying to give the individual what he never can have, or 
at least attempt to enlarge a sphere of freedom which is 
non-existent. The aim of this therapeutic effort 
apparently involves a conception of an evolutionary 
process in which something new can " emerge " to use 
the term adopted by Prof. Lloyd Morgan, in his recent 
presidential address to the Psychological Section of the 
British Association. We cannot consider this implied 
philosophy here, but only point out its religious implica- 



SOCIETY AND RELIGION 183 

tions. Schleiermacher's religion of absolute dependence 
and the Calvanistic doctrine of " irresistible grace " 
both do violence to this need for independence. It 
must be acknowledged, however, that the Presby- 
terians and Puritans of the seventeenth century were 
possessed of this quality to a rugged and virile degree. 
A possible explanation is that they compensated for an 
absolute surrender to God, by an " over-determined " 
independence in their attitude towards man. In his 
book on " Grace and Personality," which deals in a very 
able manner with the question we are now considering, 
Oman says, " The true test of a father's aid is the 
responsibility, freedom and independence of his son ; 
and we speak of God as Father, not first because He 
gives good gifts, but because He knows how to give 
them that they may secure us in freedom and not 
merely in fortune. The most liberal domination on 
God's side and the most indebted subjection on ours 
will never make us sons of God." Authority must not 
paralyse initiative ; faith must not chloroform thought ; 
obedience must ripen into fellowship ; moral law must 
become spiritual principle ; "I ought " must become 
" I want." Such, it seems to us, must be the religion 
that does justice to the unconscious element in man's 
nature. 

The third requirement in religion is that it should 
provide adequate scope for " sublimation." If, as 
Freud maintains, the impulses of the unconscious are 
the crude stuff of fleshly love, then it is only possible 
to sublimate them into some higher form of love. That 
religion will be most adequate which is most capable 
of evoking this response in its fullest measure. We 
need a reality rich enough at least to sustain the highest 
possibilities of man's nature, otherwise we shall get a 
religion which is comparable to an old maid's senti- 
mental poodle worship. In the sublimating process, 
it is desirable that as far as possible mere reaction 
formations should be avoided, because, while the new 



184 PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 

attitude may be preferable to the old, it usually involves 
a disproportionate emphasis and corresponding waste 
of energy. This may, in our present state of knowledge, 
be unavoidable. An obvious and common illustration 
of such reaction formations is to be found in the attitude 
of many converted drunkards. Much energy is devoted 
to extreme denunciation that would be better devoted 
towards more constructive activity. But religion 
should not be judged by a narrow utilitarian standard 
of " work value." Its silence, its rest, its satisfactions, 
should not be hastily condemned or lightly despised. 
A religion, which is a mere luxuriating in emotionalism 
is admittedly pathological, whether this emotion is 
stimulated by elaborate ritual or generated in a prayer- 
meeting. Such results are merely the outcome of a 
feeble sublimation of a love that spends itself in cuddles 
and caresses, but shrinks from the sterner tests of 
service and sacrifice. But this does not necessarily 
mean that the spirit should never rest in the joyous 
contemplation of the beautiful, or express the gladness 
of a grateful heart. True love demands these, as well 
as the opportunity to spend itself in self-forgetting 
ministries. 

But a purely individualistic religion cannot satisfy 
human need. The " reality," call it by what name you 
will, of religion, must be capable not only of sustaining 
the sublimated affections of the individual, it must be 
rich enough to meet the needs of the community. The 
" Kingdom of heaven " must not only be within us, but 
it must be amongst us. The sublimated individual can 
only be at home in a sublimated society. If it is true, 
that the unconscious consists of the repressed impulses 
of a crude and fleshly love, aggravated by sentimental 
indulgence, or thwarted and turned to hate by neglect 
and harsh treatment, then we are compelled to infer, 
that when it is purified and transformed, it will only 
attain to its fullest possibilities in an atmosphere and 
environment of like nature. Philosophy, regarding 



SOCIETY AND RELIGION 185 

only the conscious aspect of man's nature, has exalted 
Reason as the ideal of life. Now it must take into 
account the unconscious too, and make room in its 
scheme of things for Love. In this direction, we believe, 
lies the hope of the final synthesis, in the union of 
Reason and Love. Is there in " reality " anything 
to correspond with this conception, or is it only a 
phantasy ? 



GLOSSARY 



Abreaction. The relief of emotional tension by 

" living through " again the 
experiences which originally 
occasioned it. 

Amnesia. A defect of memory which affects the 

capacity to recall. 

Auto-Erotism. Self-love. 

Catharsis. The resolution of mental conflict by 

the recall of the experiences in 
which it originated. 

Complex. A repressed or partially repressed 

emotional system. 

Exhibitionism. A sexual impulse to self-display. 

Masochism. The impulse to find sexual satisfaction 

in suffering. 

Narcissism. A more highly organised form of 

self-love. 

Observationism. Sexual curiosity. 

Ontogenesis. Development of the individual. 

Phylogenesis. Development of the race. 

Regression. The mental process in which the 

individual returns to an earlier 
stage of his emotional development. 

Sadism. The impulse to find sexual satisfaction 

by inflicting suffering. 

Sublimation. The redirection of a sexual tendency 
to a non-sexual and socially satis- 
factory end. 

Transference. The assumption of a new " object " 
by an emotional system. Trans- 
ference on to the physician is one 
important form. 
186 



INDEX 



iAbreaction, 99-102, 181 
(Adaptability, 145, 172 

Adler, A., 20, 21 

Amnesia, 7, 100-102 

Analysis, of Dreams, 28-32, 41, 

42, 45-7 
Anxiety, 40, 82 
Appetite, 70 

Archaic Thought Forms, 66 
Art, 160 

Association, Free, 18, 29-32, 44, 
56, 158 
of Ideas, 2 
Word, 18, 19, 99, 130 
Auto-analysis, 107-113, 115, 

117, 118 
Auto-erotism, 85 
Automatism, 6, 9 
Auto-suggestion, 1 1 3-1 8 

Baudouin, C, 114-17 

Bergson, H., 44, 93, 123 
1 Bernheim, 6 

Binet, A., 146 

Bleuler, 18 

Breuer, 16, 17, 20, 102 
j Brill, 125, 135 
; Brown, W., 21, 100-102 

I Catharsis, 17, 98, 99, 181 
J Censor, 10, 32-37, 50 
I Charcot, 6, 17 
Childhood, 42, 43, 131-139 
' Children, Only, 135 

Favourite, 135, 136 
Claustrophobia, 59 
Collection, 115 
(Communism, 158 
Compensation, 21 

Theory of Dreams, 52 
1 Complex, 13, 75, 78, 79, 121, 152, 

163 
) Condensation, 48, 49 



Confession, 181 

Conflict, 19, 35, 74-77, 95, i37> 

162, 164, 179 
Consciousness, 2, 7-13, 44, 55 

Class, 170, 171 

Secondary, 7, 8 
Conscience, 55 
Content, Manifest and Latent, 

27-29 
Contention, 115 
Coue, 113, 114, 116 
Courts, Judicial, 174-176 
Crime, 173-177 

Day dreams, 36, 149 

Darwin, C, 3 

Defence Mechanism, 40, 121, 

172 
Demosthenes, 21 
Displacement, 49 
Dissociation, 13, 37, 38, 76, 181 
Dream Disguise, 33 

Symbolism, 50, 53 

Work, 48-51 
Dreams, Analysis of, 28-32, 41, 

42, 45-47. 5i 

and Auto-analysis, 111 

and Hysteria, 18, 22 

and Recent Experience, 23 

Anxiety, 40 

Children's, 26 

Content of, 27-29 

Ego-centric Interest of, 47 

Examples, 22, 25, 26, 28, 41, 
42, 45-48, 51-53 

Fear, 39-43 

Function of, 32 

of Normal and Neurotic Sub- 
jects, 24 

Popular Interpretation of, 22 

Sources of, 43-48 

Terror, 39, 40 

Wish-Fulfilment, 25-27, 32 



187 



188 



PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 



Drever, J., n, 13, 70, 78, 96 

Economics, 164, 165, 167, 170, 

175 

Education and Democracy, 147 

and Home, 128-139 

and School, 139-146 

and Society, 143-147, 172 

Curriculum, 142, 143 

Freedom in, 144, 147-150 

Religious, 143 

Sexual, 150-153 
Effort, Voluntary, 114 

Reversed, Law of, 114 
Egotistic Impulse, 20, 77, 79, 

9i 
Elaboration, Secondary, 50 
Emotions, 3, 4, 49, 58, 76, 99, 

100, 132, 133, 155, 184 
Environment, 4, 62, 136, 138, 

149 
Ethics, 16, 56 
Excuses, 61, in, 120, 128 
Exhibitionism, 89, 155 
Experience, 10, 17 
Evans, E., 133 

Faith, 181 

Ferenczi, 28, 94 

Finalism, 54 

Fixation, 75 

Flournoy, 159 

Forgetting, 34, 37, 38, 120, 121, 

124, 126-128 
Formations, Compromise, 75, 

155 
Reaction, 75, 134, 155, 184 

Freedom, 134, 144, 147-150 

Freud, S., and Adler, 21 
and Breuer, 16, 17, 20 
and Jung, 54, 55 
Censor, 36 
Dissociation, 38 
Free Association, 30, 31 
Function of Dreams, 32 
Instinctive Tendencies, 15, 77, 

93 

Libido, 93 

Mislaying of Articles, 125, 126 
Psychic Apparatus, 8, 9 
Reality and Pleasure-Pain 
Principle, 71 s 



Freud, Religion, 179 
Riding Dream, 48 
Sexual Trends, 79 
Sexual Theory, 80-93 
Slip of the Tongue, 125 
Theory of Neuroses, 83 
Totem and Taboo, 158 
Transference, 18, 104, 105 

Gospels, 180 

Grevillers, 127, 128 
Gregarious Instincts, 94 

Habit, 108, 109 

Hadfield, 179 

Hall, F., 166 

Healey, W., 75, 137, 138 

Heredity, 107 

Herd Instinct, 77, 79, 94, 96 

Hobhouse, L. T., 147, 173 

Holt, E., 136 

Home, 130-139, 161 

Homosexualism, 88 

Hygiene, 153 

Hypnotism, 6, 7, 9, 17, 99 

Hysteria, 7, 8, 61, 82 

Identification, 49, 64, 65, 69 
Imagination, 114 
Imitation, 133 
Independence, 182, 183 
Industry, 164, 165 
Inferiority Complex, 21, 121, 170 
Instinct, 3, 4, 15, 77-96 
Intellectualism, 3, 6 
Intelligence, of children, 131, 
170 
Tests, 145, 146 
Introjection, 95 
Introspection, 78, 109-110 

Janet, Pierre, 6, i i 

Jews, 135 

Jones, E., 21, 61, 66, 71, 72, 94, 

95, 104, 120, 123, 153, i54< 

177, 178 
Jung, C, n, 18-21, 51-56, 66, 

73, 84, 86-88, 91, 131-134, 

179 

Kleptomania, 75, 137, 138 
Kolnai, A., 158 



INDEX 



189 



Learning, 121, 122, 136 
Libido, 20, 93, 178, 179 
Long, C, 21 

MacDougall, W., 3-6, 11, 13, 
21, 77» 79, 90, 91, 94, 101, 
133 
Magistrates, 174 
Masochism, 79, 89, 90 
Mechanism, 4 
Memory, 9, 10, 17, 20 
Mind, 8 

and disease, 108, 109, 128 

Neurotic, 18 
Misconduct, 137, 138 
Mislaying of Articles, 125, 126 
Montessori, 140, 141, 148 
Morel, 159 
Morgan, Lloyd, 182 
Myers, C. S., 21, 101, 102 

Neuroses, 35, 69, 72, 73, 83, 97, 
162, 170 
War, 82, 100-102 
Nicoll, M., 21 
Nietzsche, 20 
Nunn, P., 140 

Obliviscence, 120 
Observationism, 89 
Obsession, 7 

CEdipus Complex, 86, 92 
Offenders, Young, 174 
Oman, J., 183 

Parent-Relation, 85, 86, 131- 

139, 161 
Parents, 167-169 
Patriarchs, Hebrew, 135 
Penitence, 181 
Personality, 140, 183 

Double, 6, 14 
Pfister, 159, 178 
Philosophy, 177, 178, 184, 185, 

Religious, 159 

Social, 159 
Phobias, 7 

Pleasure-Pain Principle, 69-74 
Pre-conscious, 9-12, 14 
Presentability, Regard for, 50 
Prince, M., 6, 11, 14 



Process, Primary and Secondary 

71-74 
Psycho-Analysis and Crime, 

173-177 
and Educational Aims, 143, 

145 
and Ethics, 55, 56 
and Home, 1 30 
and Human Problems, 119 
and Motives, 61, 62 
and Non-sexual Instincts, 93 
and Overcoming of Resis- 
tance, 77, 105 
and Philosophy, 177, 178 
and Religion, 178, 179 
and Society, 160 
and Suggestion, 29, 102, 103, 

113, 117, 118 
and Symbolism, 65 
and Transference, 104 
and Unemployment, 169-172 
and War Neuroses, 98-102 
Origin and History, 16-22 
Technique, 29-32, 84, 98-107, 

128, 146 
Terminology, 76, 93 
Theory of, 8-15, 25, 92, 158 

Psychology, 2, 15, 21, 62, 76, 
92, 129, 175 
Comparative, 3, 5, 6 
New, 1, 129 

Psycho-Pathology of Everyday 
Life, 37, 1 19-128 

Puberty, 88 

Punishment, 137, 138, 173 

Putnam, J. J., 91, 177 

Rationalization, 60-62, 75, 76 
Reality, 71, 95, 1 81-185 

Principle, 63, 69-74 
Recall, 10, 17 
Regression, 17, 20, 92 
Reik, 159 

Relations, Social, 163 
Religion, 143, 178-185 
Relaxation, 29, 115 
Repression, 15, 32-38, 95, 106, 

155 
Resistance, 17, 30, 77, 84, 105, 

106 
Rivers, W. H. R., 21, 33~35> 94* 

179 



190 



PSYCHO-ANALYSIS 



Sadism, 79, 89, 90, 137 

Schleiermacher, 183 

Self-consciousness, 5, 7, 8, 13, 14 

Sensations, 47 

Sentiments, 13 

Sex, 17, 20-22, 75, 77, 80-93, 

137. 150-153, 166, 167 
Sidis, B., 6, 11, 140 
Silberer, 50, 159 
Slip of the Tongue, 125 
Social Ideal, 160-169 

Misfits, 169-177 
Society, 96, 145, 147, 159, 160 

Sociology, 158 

Spontaneity, 141, 142, 148 

Stekel, 41, 179 

Subconscious, 6-8, 11, 14-16, 
114 

Sublimation, 22, 53, 68, 90, 106, 
112, 153-157, i g 3, 184 

Suggestion, 6, 7, 29, 94, 102, 103 

Suggestibility, Law of, 140 

Suppression, 34, 35 

Suspense, 40 

Symbolism, 50, 53, 65-69 

Synthesis, Mental, 8, 13, 101, 
102 

Tansley, 78, 79, no 
Teacher, Personality of, 140, 145 
Tead, O., 165 
Teleology, 5, 31 

Tendency, 10, n, 13, 14, 32, 62- 
69 
and wish, 27 



Tendency, Definition of, 63 
Tendencies, Childhood, 42, 43 

Conflict of, 74, 77 

Disguise of, 33, 36 

Innate and acquired, 63 

Instinctive, 77-96 

Modification of, 64 

Repressed, 38 

Types of Unconscious, 57-59 
Trades Unions, 158, 172 
Transference, 18, 102-107, 162, 

180-181 
Trotter, 93, 95 

Unconscious and Crime, 177 
and Determinism, 31, 120 
and the Immediately Painful, 

35 

and Industrial Relations, 163 

and Morals, 54 

and Philosophy, 185 

and Repression, 38, 43 

and Society, 159 

Tendencies, Types of, 58-60 

Wish, 27, 128 
Unemployment, 169-172 
Utilitarianism, 2, 3 

Watts, F., 163 

Wallas, G., 3, 63 

White, W. A., 108-109 

Will, 114 

Wish-fulfilment, 25-27, 97, 128 

Wish, Death, 42, 43 

Woods, A., 148 



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